


Fool In The Rain

by LittleSilverBirds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSilverBirds/pseuds/LittleSilverBirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His eyes begged him for some form of reassurance that he was something. Not just something occupying a borrowed body that would never be given back."</p><p>TW for self harm and suggestion of/reference to mental illness</p><p>For my friend who loves the sort of canon-but-AU type thing. Its basically if-some-things-did-or-didnt-happen with more angelic involvement</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transience

_People are puppets held together with string_  
 _There's a beautiful sadness that runs through him_  
 _As he asked me to pray to the God he doesn't believe in_

**_A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers_ **

* * *

 

His angel kept coming back. Except he didnt.

Sure, everyone had one. Just, everyone elses seemed to stay away from them until they're called. This one, his one, couldnt seem to keep away. He'd wake up in the night and find him looming over his bed, big shadows of wings behind him, or in the corner by the chair staring as if it were normal. And the creature would just be there when he came home from work, or he'd appear in a sound of beating wings. That was when he was being quiet, when he was angry with something he would appear and it would be like a clap of thunder and lightening illuminated the sillouette of his massive wings.

He sometimes wished the guy would just make up his mind if he was staying for good or if he was going to be normal and come when called. He'd asked him once, and the response wasnt quite as he'd expected.

"We are not _dogs_!" The angel had growled at him, "We do not simply _come when called_. I could easily throw you into the pits of hell, you should treat me with more respect." Then he disappeared on him. Only to reappear two days later in the dead of night without a word. Dean had enough shit going on without moody angels screwing around with his head.

But the angel did have his tender moments, somehow. When one night a drunk Dean had accidentally smashed a glass in his hand, the shards sticking into his palm, he appeared quietly with none of his usual grumpiness. He'd taken Deans bloody hand in both of his, picked the shards out and healed the wound with a cool touch to his palm. He had also seen him to bed, disappearing again when he was all tucked up under the covers. The angel was strange, but Dean wouldnt change him.

Tonight though he wanted to be alone. But he didnt. Half of him wanted to be picked up and told he was an idiot and the other just didnt care. Still, he couldnt help feeling a little sense of almost relief when his angel did appear. He took a seat on the chair next to Deans and just looked for a while, like Dean didnt have his head in his hands and a slow trickle of red running down one arm to pool at the crook of his elbow. He felt the arm being taken in two, warm hands and just cradled there in front of him. His angel frowned at it like he didnt know what to make of it, occasionally sparing a glance up to Dean. He didnt heal it with a touch though, he left it.

"Talk to me, Dean," he said after a minute. Dean sighed and kept his eyes shut while the blood started drying at his elbow.

"Cas..." was all Dean replied. Because angels are machines and he couldnt possibly expect one to understand the innermost workings of the human mind.

"Dean you understand I can hear what you're thinking."

He scowled at the floor, putting up a mental block just to spite Castiel. But the hands didnt move no matter how much he tried to make Cas angry enough to leave. It was irritating how he'd leave over so little most days and yet today he just wouldnt budge.

Castiel sighed, "Please. Tell me."

"Why should I?" Dean bit back and tried to take his arm back, but found it stuck between Cas' palms in a gentle hold. Far more gentle than Dean could've imagined him to be.

"Because its my job to make sure you're okay."

"Just read my mind," he sounded tired, tired and angry. "You probably already have."

Cas' hand he could've sworn gave an involuntary twitch on his arm, the extra pressure from his thumb coaxed more blood to run. "I want you to tell me."

Dean finally looked up at Cas, and he's wearing a far more concerned expression than he's ever seen him wear. Strange for an angel, he thought. Because they're just machines-

"Despite what you think of me, Dean," Cas cut off his train of thought, "I am not just some machine to program and direct."

"Then what are you?"

The angel waited a beat or two, staring at Dean unblinking with wide, but soft eyes. Dean had a theory that they were only that bright blue because of whatever it was that made angels shone through a little. To remind everyone they're different. His brothers angel had eyes the colour of sunlight through whiskey, his friends were a stormcloud. All different, exceedingly unique.

"I'm concerned for your wellbeing," he replied, and Dean supposed he couldnt be angry with him for that. Even if it was probably a lie for Deans sake. So he stared down at the hands holding his forearm and spoke.

"I've not been feeling great," he told Castiel, "Just when I think things cant get worse, they do. I did that, it helps but it doesnt."

Castiels fingers passed over the wound and Dean watched it close before his eyes, but the blood remained. He held out his hand to Dean, theres a little spot of blood on his thumb but Dean ignored it. Dean dropped the little shard of glass into his open palm, watched his fingers close around it and flinched at the small crunch it made, but gazed in almost wonder as when his fingers opened again it fell as sand to the faded, scratched black and white tiles of the kitchen floor.  
He was still amazed when Castiel did things out of the ordinary, sometimes he forgot he wasnt human. It wasnt hard, he looked like one, walked like one, but the way he talked was like he was a Vulcan or something.

"Now please," he surprised Dean by taking his chin in his long fingers to turn his face towards him, "Do not do that again." And he was gone, just like that. Leaving Dean with a little sand and blood on his arm. Dean sometimes liked to convince himself that his angel could be human sometimes, but moments like that reminded him otherwise. There was a light fog hanging around outside the window, and illuminated in the floodlight he swore he saw a trench coat clad figure there looking through the mist at the window. But when he blinked it was gone. Leaving him alone with himself.

Sam would ask tomorrow, as he did every Saturday, where his angel was and did he ever even visit. But he'd shrug again and tell him he doesnt know. Lying to keep up appearances. Everyone in this house thought it was just Dean that had a moody angel, or that he didnt call him down at all. When really it was both and neither at all.

* * *

 

Bobby's angel, or demon or whatever he was, was a real mountain of dicks. Sarcastic, slimy and all manner of _How-To-Make-Deans-Skin-Crawl-By-Existing_. He seemed to always be around when no one wanted him and at the centre of every drama. In short: No one knew how Bobby ended up with him or even put up with the prick. Sams was a little more tolerable. But if you found a candy wrapper anywhere you knew who's it was. He liked to hang around while Sam was at school then bugger off when he came home like he was scared of the kid. Dean found him just plain annoying.

He also doubted anyone even knew what his angel looked like. There was a photo on the mantle of Bobby, Sam, Dean, Jo and Benny and all of them had their angels. Except Dean, that is. The one time Dean actually did call and he didnt appear resulted in a slightly embarrassing photo moment. So you could imagine his surprise when he just turns up one rainy Wednesday afternoon in the middle of the study while Deans looking for a book and just stands there. Dean expected it to just be one of those 'I'm going to watch you for ten minutes then leave' days but the angel followed him through to the kitchen, took the chair next to him and watched him read through the book on werewolves.

"You're looking for something," he stated.

"Bingo. Know how to-"

"Its not a werewolf.

Dean frowned and looked up from his book, "And how would you know?"

Cas glared back, "Its a shapeshifter. Silver kills shapeshifters. Their eyes shone in the CCTV footage, yes? I think you'll find it easier than you thought."

Dean opened his mouth to tell Cas he was talking bull but he was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. Benny, apparently.

"Dean its not a were," he told him a little breathlessly, "Its a goddamn shifter."

"Well why're you telling me? Kill it."

"Smartass. Its my first shifter, how do I kill it?"

Dean rolled his eyes, sparing an almost glare at Cas who was still there, "Same as a were. Silver." 

Benny hung up on him and he turned back to his angel who was half smiling rather smugly. Like he'd actually helped or something. Well, he had, but thats not the point. Deans only stepping in for Bobby while he's with Rufus, something about a Chupacabra in Maine or whatever. It was easier to have him go than have Dean go on a hunt with the grumpy old man who's only slightly less grizled than Bobby is.

"What?" he said when Cas wouldnt stop staring. He was slowly getting used to it but it was still weird.

"Nothing."

"Why're you here anyway? You never come down."

Cas shrugged, "I suppose I wanted to... be a bigger part of your life."

Dean snorted and shut the old leatherbound book, "You make yourself sound like an absent father."

He got up from the table to replace the book and the angel followed him again, damn he was serious about this thing, wasnt he? Dean shook his head and slid the book into place on the dusty shelf. He's still not too familiar with all the ins and outs of the office side of the job but he's getting there. He'd rather Garth did it, he was better. The door opened at the front of the house to let Sam in, Dean knew his angel would disappear now. He was glad, the guy would come downstairs and annoy him because there was nothing to do. Dean would tell him to read a book or help out and he'd just groan and flutter off somewhere else.

"Well," Cas spoke up again, "I realised that I'm not doing my job well enough. Given last week I felt the need to try harder."

Of course, last week. The night he turned glass to its base form of sand and healed up a tiny little wound. Dean believed him but he felt the need to be argumentative today, he had days like that sometimes.

"Yeah, whats the real reason?"

The angel shifted to lean on the desk beside Deans (Bobby's) chair, "I'm cut off from Heaven, I have no choice. But believe me when I say I want to do better for you, because I do. Its just going to be a little more difficult when I dont have access to any power."

And where the angel sounded a little irritable (Whats new?), Dean absolutely did not sound like a hacked off child when he said "Why's that make a difference?" But he would admit that he had maybe at least hoped that there would've been perhaps a personal note to it, that it wasnt just because he was on angel-time-out or whatever. Who was he kidding? The guy was just doing a job, nothing more, nothing less. He'd thought that maybe he actually gave a crap about him, but he was wrong.

"I wont be able to heal you, for one," he told Dean. "So if there's a repeat of last week then I cant do anything."

Except there wont be a repeat of last week, will there?

Dean scowled at the desk in front of him, hoping Benny would call him back so he could go back to ignoring Cas. It was easier to do when he had something to hold his attention.

"You're unhappy," Cas folded his arms, staring at the bookshelf behind Dean, "With me."

"No I'm not," he lied back. Well it wasnt a total lie anyway. He was pissed off, a little with Cas but mostly with himself. Dads still missing, his angel too. When the angel stopped appearing thats when they got worried, because when a human dies their angel just disappears. Probably gone upstairs to get reprogrammed or something. He's pissed because he hasnt been able to find a lead for weeks, Bobby said he was running himself into the ground and he should take a break but Dean saw that as admitting he's gone.

He thought that was also the reason for Bobby keeping him behind a desk, in case he went off on his own and got himself killed in the process. He's twenty-one, not an idiot. As soon as he got out of school he started the job, against Bobby's advice. He's got his GED but thats it. In hindsight he'd rather he'd done something with himself. But he'd been too eager to get out there and kill stuff, save people like his dad and it cost him a normal life. Bobby said he could still get out if he did now, but he doubted it. So long as Sam gets a normal-ish life then thats good enough for him.

Cas still stared at the books, still in his shoes and coat, and it annoyed Dean somehow. Maybe because nobody else wore shoes and coats in the house. Dean himself was just in his ripped jeans and a t-shirt, those novelty sock monkey socks Sam got him one christmas with the holes in the heels because he dragged his feet wherever he went.

"You gonna take that thing off?" Dean tugged at the sleeve of the coat once and Cas gave him his confused squint, he knew what was coming next.

"Why?"

He shrugged, "Cos you're inside. People dont wear coats inside."

It was Cas' turn to shrug and he pushed off from the table without a sound to pull a leatherbound book from the shelves, with gold leaf on the cover and spine in some language that Dean didnt understand. Evidently Cas did, of course he did. He was a 'wave of celestial intent' as he'd said before. The way he held it in his hands, like it was delicate which it probably wasnt, and the way his finger skimmed the pages as he read with his lips miming every word to himself told Dean he would probably be a book person if he were a human. Or at the very least, someone who had a deep respect for literature and things.

Dean stood up from the chair, leaving Cas with his book. He thought that he could probably spend all day with the old, dusty volumes if Dean let him. Well, who was he to order around an angel, like he'd said. They're not dogs.

He was surprised to hear footsteps following him through the house and finding Cas walking with him, still with the book in his hands. He's so used to the guy just flapping around everywhere instead of using his legs. Its just weird.

Thankfully Cas stopped in the kitchen to read leaning on the counter near the washing machine. He left Dean to run upstairs, shut the door of his room and lie on his bed to stare at the roof, at the posters stuck there. They're everywhere, he ran out of room for them in the little space he called his room. The floor was the wardrobe, the desk held more aborted sketches than finished ones because he cant draw as well as he wants. The bedsheets were plain, but one pillowcase had the captain America shield on it from when he was a kid. The bedframe was just ordinary wood with various sharpie marks on it, just like the dresser that had profanity and random sigyls all over it. Just as it had been since Dean was twelve. Stupid kid things that he hadnt thought about at the time, then regretted, then couldnt care less about. The stack of magazines by his bed were the ones he didnt mind someone seeing, the music mags and car ones. The ones under it were the ones that nobody really wanted to see much less that Dean wanted them to see. The ones he reached for when everyone else had gone out or went to bed. Of course everyone knew he had them, but its not like he flaunted their existence. Then theres the bedside table, where he kept the reading glasses he didnt use and his various other things. Including a sharpie marker for when he felt the wood of his headboard needed a new celtic dog or something. Oh and the penknife. Which was, incidentally, warded against angels so Cas couldnt make this one disappear or turn to dust.

Not like he was gonna use it, but just in case he wanted to stab something. Like the dresser or the random teddy bear with one eye that's half burried under a pile of clothes. His door opened a little and let Sam in, and Dean was about to snap at him about knocking first (he was nearly seventeen he should know already) but he cut him off. "Dean theres some guy standing in the kitchen reading a book in Greek."

He pushed up on his elbows, "S'just Cas."

"Its in _Greek_ , who the hell reads Greek apart from Bobby?"

Dean shrugged and fell back down again, one arm hanging off the bed, "Angels, I guess."

Sam nearly ( _nearly_ ) laughed, but he remembered the last time he laughed at Dean which ended with an asskicking. He didnt want to humiliate Dean again, as tempting as it was. "So thats your angel-who-never-turns-up."

"Yeah."

Dean rolled onto his front and slid his arms under the pillow, he was tired and wanted to black out for a while. His door closed again with the usual squeak and it was quiet again. A few murmurs reached his ears from downstairs, then it was all silent. Maybe a little too quiet for Deans liking, he reached down and smacked the old CD player until it started making noises that sounded like music. The speakers were fuzzy and he should probably get new ones, but they were good enough for now to play Guns N' Roses quietly for him until he didnt think anymore.

* * *

 

He opened his eyes again when the light outside his window was orange from the dusk setting outside, and the sounds of dinner downstairs were too loud for him to hear his music anymore. He heard Benny's laugh and Sam spinning some tale from school or the other, and a shadow hanging over his bed from the window side of his bed, which was crazy because someone would've had to move his bed to get there without waking him. He felt for the knife he kept stuck between the headboard and the mattress, playing at being still asleep. His dad taught him that from when he was four, always assume the worst.

"I know you're awake, Dean," Castiels voice came from the windowsill, "Your breathing pattern changed three minutes ago."

"Dammit Cas," he cursed, letting go of the knifes hilt and sitting up properly to see the angel sitting on the windowsill. Its big enough to allow one person to sit there, not a windowseat but just a big sill. "How'd you get up there?"

"I tried explaining my methods to you before but-"

"Wait, I thought you didnt have any mojo to do that," Dean stood up, the guy had left his goddamn door open for everyone who was in the hallway to watch him sleeping, and he was drawing on the window with his finger. He was pretty annoyed, he just cleaned them four days ago.

Cas shrugged, sliding from the sill onto Deans bed to follow him from the room. "I have enough for small jumps. I just get tired quickly."

He did look a little tired now Dean thought about it. It was his own fault, there was absolutely no need for him to choose Deans window, there were plenty other windows in the house.

"In answer to your recent thoughts," Cas said on the way down the stairs, "We're connected, its favourable for me to be closer to you."

"So what, you imprinted on me? Like a baby bird?"

Looking back told Dean Cas was scowling at him fantastically, but he made a noise that was neither yes nor no, "I suppose that is one word for it."

"Well c'mon duckling," Dean said just to spite him, "M'hungry and they have food."

He still hadnt taken the coat off, and it still bothered Dean but he let it pass. He had more important things on his mind, like his stomach and how loud it was growling. Benny must've brought pizza in with him, there were two boxes out and both were big enough for a family of three. There were usually four or five people in the house at a time, and Dean had forgotten to tell Benny that Bobby had gone up North.

Benny's angel was there, a slight, brown haired thing with a pretty, round face. Not unlike Jo's, who had shoulder length brown hair. Well, blonde. But only because Bobby's Crowley thought it'd be funny to change her hair colour. She didnt think so. They couldnt have the two in the same room now if you didnt want electrical storms outside. Dean announced his presence by stealing Benny's hat and setting it on his angels head backwards, he made an irritated sound around his mouthful of food and took a swipe at him on his way by. Dean just grinned at him and grabbed a slice of the pizza from the box on the table, not bothering with a plate. He wouldnt be here long anyway.

"You didnt tell me Bobby was gone," Benny grumped at him, "I bought way more than we needed."

"S'okay, I'll eat it," Dean took a large bite out of the pizza to prove his point. He hadnt had any breakfast today either. Just a mug of coffee. He was quite starving. And the angels didnt eat anything anyway, if they did it was for pleasure or to be polite. Like if they were offered a slice of cake at a birthday or wedding, they'd eat that. But normal food? Nah.

While he laughed with the other two over something crazy that happened to Benny on one of his hunts, like a lady with twenty cats he had to speak to that was a total cougar, he glanced up to the hallway where he'd left his angel. Cas stood near the stairs, a hand on the banister like he couldnt decide where he was going, and never took his eyes off Dean. And Dean couldnt look away, something in his eyes held him. It was heavy and full of something Dean couldnt place, and it stuck in Deans head when the angel turned away to go through to the study again.

* * *

Dean woke up four mornings in a row with Cas on the windowsill, and the fifth morning he felt almost a loss. The angel wasnt there, but on the chair in the corner, and the room was tidy for once. Clothes had been folded and put away in the dresser drawer, the pile of dirty washing covering the teddy bear had vanished into the washbasket, the sketches were in neat piles on the desk and even his hoodies were hung neatly on the back of the door. Dean had forgotten the carpet was a dark green colour.

"Someone's been busy," he remarked, rolling out of bed with a yawn because he hated getting up on weekends. Weekends were for sleeping, not waking up. But he had jobs to do around the house, in the study and at the garage. Bobby would be home tomorrow, he'd finished the hunt late last night and decided the drive would've been too long. Damn straight it would've been too long. The drive was like a whole day without stops.

He went over to the dresser and riffled through it, carefully, to find his jeans wherever Cas had put them. The bottom drawer apparently. Castiel had gotten less and less grumpy over the days, more subdued even. He sat quietly in the house until Dean got home, or came with him and said nothing. He was just there.

"I got bored," Cas said from his chair, "And the mess was...irritating to say the least."

The dude still hadnt taken his coat off yet, but it still bugged Dean at the back of his mind. He ignored it though, like he ignored the constant feeling of being watched. Five days with Cas at his back was enough to get him used to it, he thought. He still had work to do anyway, so he tugged on the jeans and grabbed a fresh shirt, pulling the other off and thowing it in the washbasket. He didnt want to piss off Cas by messing up the clean floor. He'd still need to vaccum the place, Dean could do that later.

"Well, thanks. I would've done it but-"

"But you were too lazy."

He frowned at Cas, "Yeah. That."

Cas looked a little tired, well more tired than before. Dean was half tempted to tell him to lie down and sleep for a couple of hours, angels didnt sleep either though. The majority didnt smell like a sweaty sock either, but apparently this one did.

"Dude," Dean stepped back from Cas as he moved forward, "No offence but you kinda stink."

"I-"

"Like, you need to shower or something."

Cas seemed maybe even confused like he didnt know what a shower was. He frowned down at the shirt Dean just threw in the washbasket like it held the explanaition or the manual for what to do when your angel malfunctions. Dean had time to kill, he wasnt supposed to be working today, just filling in for Bobby while he's gone. So he used that time to show Castiel how the shower worked, give him a change of clothes after having to explain that his other ones reeked too. A simple button down shirt and clean jeans. Dean was glad to see him shrug off the coat and leave it hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

He wanted to burn it, but he thought Cas might just kill him for it, so he just threw it in the wash with the rest of his stuff. He checked the pockets though, finding an old photograph of a cat, lint and a few coins. What use Cas had for pictures of cats and old coins, he didnt know. But he left them on the side with a scrap of paper saying 'Cas' in slightly messy writing.  
Breakfast was a cold slice of pizza eaten at Bobby's desk while he checked in with him, apparently he was on his way and should be home in the wee hours. The phones ringed once or twice, just hunters looking for jobs in the area. And a couple of policemen or whatever asking about this agent or another. Upstairs the shower cut out and Dean hoped to God he didnt have to explain to Cas he had to dry himself off before he got dressed. He wasnt that stupid, he hoped. Nobody was used to an angel on heavenly time out, so no one knew what to do with him or if needing to shower was the norm. There wasnt a manual for this, you just figured it out when your angel popped up and announced they were here to stay.

It helped that they aged with you, so when you're sixteen and you get some random guy turn up its not a fifty year old man stalking you. They're the same age so its less awkward. Cas had been wearing that trench coat when Dean tried to kill him four years ago, he'd just turned up one night in his room with no explanaition so naturally Dean stuck a knife in his chest. The douchenugget just looked him straight in the eyes and pulled it out, dropped it to the floor and stood there. The stains still on the floor of Deans room, but it's covered by the bed now. He shifts the room around when he's bored.

Cas appeared then, the sleeves of the red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows and the faded jeans hanging a little loose on his hips because obviously he's smaller than Dean is. He's shorter too. Just a little. He looked around, perhaps a little awkwardly. Maybe that trench coats a sort of comfort blanket to him.

"I have a feeling that Bobby wont be happy with you putting your feet on his desk," he commented, seeing Dean reclining in the chair doing just that. Dean shrugged, doodling on the notepad some random protection symbol or the other. "Bobby's not here."

"You know," Cas said with some strange tone, "I could tell him."

"But you're not gonna," Dean shifted his toes to see him better, "Are you?"

It was more a statement than a question, and the angel scowled at him before coming to lean on the desk beside him while he waited for the phone to ring. His hair was all wet and floppy, and kept falling into his eyes while he tried flipping it out of the way. He needed a trim but Dean doubted he'd agree to it. He barely got him to agree to the shower.

The clock in the kitchen slowly ticked to twelve and when it finally said noon Dean swung his feet down from the desk and nudged past Cas. Time for the shift at the garage. All he had to do was sit in the office there and drink coffee, book people in for MOT's and things. Not much work. He threw Cas a pair of boots Sam had grown out of he thought would fit, because evidently he was coming with him, and held the door open for him to follow. The ground was dusty, the cars even dustier and the air would make a lesser man sneeze. Thats this place for you. Dry. The only thing that made Dean sneeze were cats, he didnt like cats anyway so it was fine. No loss there.

He threw himself down in the chair behind Bobby's other desk and Cas perched on the sofa near it. It was meant for customers, but they prefered the ones outside. Mainly because it reeked of oil and old leather in here. To Dean it was home.

He caught Cas stiffle a yawn and there was his concrete proof that he needed forty winks at least. "Dude just lie down on the sofa," he told him, "Its quiet today, sleep."

Cas looked like he'd protest, but settled back on the sofa, still sitting up mind you. Like he was being a little hardass by not lying down. Dean threw one of Bobby's old hats at him, telling him to wear it angled down over his eyes so the sun didnt wake him up, but Cas only grumbled something about not wearing a hat and threw it back. He didnt look like he needed it anyway, he was settled with his arms crossed over his chest and legs splayed where he sat, he wasnt self conscious at all about how he positioned himself. One customer came in, but he didnt stir. He stayed unconscious, snoring a little when there was a break in the music floating in from the floor. He didnt even wake up when Ash decided the noisiest power tool was the best toy to use. He was completely out of it.

When four thirty came and closing time rolled around, he was reluctant to wake Cas. He looked too comfortable and relaxed on his little sofa. But he had to, so Dean balled up an old invoice and threw it at his head and Cas started awake with a hilarious little snort Dean only thought actors did in movies. He glared at Dean and looked like he was ready to wage war, but threw the paper at his head instead.

"Quitin' time bud," Dean stood up once he'd recovered from his fit of manly giggling, motioning for Cas to follow. The angel hauled himself out of the chair and stretched, his joints popping and he looked so human Dean forgot himself for a second.

They dragged themselves back to the house, and Cas even accepted a beer from Dean when he offered. Dean thought this was the most civil they'd ever been, sharing their space, mutual drinks and (though it sounds really gay) clothes sharing. They hadnt had one single argument or crossed words since Cas got here. Not one. And Dean, though he's a little loathe to admit it, doesnt want it to end and go back to the way it was as soon as Cas gets his wings back, so to speak.

* * *

 

The sixth morning Dean found Cas asleep on the chair in the corner. He'd left him to wake up on his own and went downstairs to start on breakfast for him and Sam. Pancakes, he decided. Sunday was a good day for pancakes. Bobby got home around four in the morning, so he was sleeping the drive off. He would get his later.

Today Dean got maybe even a little concerned about the condition of his featherbutt friend. Because upon his rise, the angel had ventured downstairs bleary eyed and the first thing Dean heard from him was his stomach growling. He'd split his pancakes with him and made him a mug of coffee which he accepted wordlessly, looking just as worried as Dean felt. Sam said nothing, too concerned with his English homework and food to notice anything out of place. Not even that Cas was wearing another one of Deans shirts, Dean thought he might've had something to say about that.

Dean had to man the desk again today, and Cas lingered by him the whole time. He picked up various books and flicked through them disinterestedly. Other than the occasional sigh he was completely silent.

"Hey Cas," Dean nudged his hip with one hand when Sam disappeared upstairs, "You're not okay, are you?"

The angel said nothing, but held his gaze like he knew Dean knew the answer. He did.

"We're talking about this," he went on, "Tonight. No disappearin' on me."

"I dont think I could even if-"

"Nope," Dean interrupted him, "Tonight. We'll figure it out, okay?"

Cas never said okay.

* * *

 

Dean pushed open his window all the way, crawling out onto the flat roof beneath it. It was a place he liked to sit on the fine summer evenings, like tonight. He invited Cas out with him, and the angel sat beside him on the dusty shingles, knees up to his chest.

The sun was just about to disappear behind the horizon, the last orange light cast over the roof of the old house. Dean watched Cas watching it go down slowly. 

"Whats happening with you, man?" he said when the light disappeared, "First you ran out of go-juice, then you needed to shower and now you gotta eat too?"

Cas shrugged beside him, maybe he genuinely didnt know. But Dean highly doubted that. Cas knew a lot of things, a helluva lot. He tought Dean algebra and helped him with homework when his dad wouldnt, and he helped him on hunts too. He knew more than he was letting on, Dean was sure.

"You're falling," he concluded, "Arent you?"

Cas sighed heavily, "My superiors think I'm getting too close to my charge- you. I argued that that was my purpose. That we're not just machines. They deemed me unfit, too human, so I've had my powers revoked."

"You're becoming human."

"Too much heart, they said." Cas looked a little sad and he watched the first stars appearing in the blue black, "I've got nowhere to go, Dean. No family. No home. And you have no angel anymore. I dont know whats going to happen to me, to us."

"Hey," Dean put his arm around Cas' shoulders and squeezed a little, "You've got us. We're your family now. You've always got a home here, you featherbutt."

Dean swore he saw Cas smile a little. Just a little though. It was good, maybe he thought the same. "Theres something else, isnt there?"

Cas waited a second, then breathed a few more. "I suppose that...what if you are assigned another angel? What happens to me? Do I just...fade out?"

Now the angel was being absolutely ridiculous, and Dean ruffled his hair a little before mirroring him in the way he sat. "You'll never disappear," Dean told him, "You're my best friend. I dont need another one. Just you, and Benny when he swings by."

"But-"

" _Cas_ ," he stopped him, speaking firmly like he never had, "You're staying here with me. When we're done here I'll set up the spare room, you cant keep sleeping in that old chair. You'll get backache."  
"You asked me a while ago, what am I?" Cas stared down at the ground far below them, as if he were thinking about if he jumped could he fly? "I'll tell you. I'm broken."

"We're all broken bud."

"But I cant fix you anymore," he sounded almost pained. Like his whole purpose in life was to fix Dean Winchester when he broke himself, "What if you get hurt, what if you hurt yourself again? I cant heal you."

Dean hugged him tighter, he sounded like he needed it. But Cas didnt know how to human yet, so he didnt move to hug back. Dean had a random thought, that Cas would need a surname if he's human now. And a bank account, and other normal things. All stuff they could sort out in time.

"I'll heal up normal like everyone else," he told the slightly distraught angel, "Like I did before you came along. Just dont disappear on me."

Cas swallowed, nodded in response. His head fell forward to meet his knees and they sat like that while it occured to Dean what Cas had done. He could have just obeyed, did as he was told and kept his distance. But he chose to argue that his place was here with Dean, he'd all but given up his Grace. Now he's stuck here doomed for a normal, tiny flicker of a human life. But maybe he'd like it, being mortal. Being saddled with all the aches and pains and mournful hardships of being a human. For now, Dean just held him while he sat on the roof with him, giving little quiet hiccups every now and then for the life he'd lost.


	2. White Doves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets used to being human and Dean gets some bad news.  
> TW for self injury and hinted-at mental illness

If my wings should fail me, Lord. Please meet me with another pair

**In My Time Of Dying - Led Zeppelin**

* * *

He felt a little bad just dumping Cas in the spare room, but there was nowhere else for him until they sorted out a bedroom for him. There were three other rooms free in the house he could choose from, one near Deans and the other two were really just one separated by a divider in the attic. The spare room was for Garth or Benny if they came round and decided to stay. It was Cas' for now. He'd put up with the bits and pieces left by the two drifters over the years. Garth pinned up photo's, Benny left souvineirs on the dresser. Garth actually left a hat of his on the end of the bed, hanging on the bedpost was an old stetson Dean swore had a bite mark in the brim. It wasnt unusual for items of clothing to have that kind of wear and tear in their business.

Dean had seen Cas bedded down before closing the door behind him and leaving him alone to sleep. He looked like he needed it. Only, at some point during the night Cas had hauled himself through to Deans room 'Just to check' and he'd had to coax him back through with quiet (if tired) words and a hand on his shoulder. Dean sat with him a while this time, made sure he fell asleep for real, and went back to his own bed. He had work at nine tomorrow, Sam had school, so it'd be a busy house between seven and eight thirty. Dean had to wake up, shower, make breakfast for people, get his stupid work shirt on and head off. Which meant Cas would be at home on his own most of the day unless someone showed up. Bobby would probably show him how to man the desk, work the phones, scan the papers for weird things and ask around see who's in the area. No one liked a slacker, especially Bobby. He said if you lived in his house you earned your keep. Sam got a free pass since he was still in school.

Even still, when Dean lay down to finally sleep, he took a while to get his mind to stop working. He might've even felt a little loss, not having his angel there watching over him.

* * *

Dean was in the middle of dishing out some scrambled eggs to go with Sams toast when Cas dragged his scruffy ass down stairs at eight fifteen. Must've woken up with the morning hustle coming from the kitchen. Bobby grabbed some toast from the rack on the way past the table, Sam was shoving books into his bag while he ate, Dean only just sat down to eat after he shoved the pan from the eggs into the sink to soak a while when Sam finished and announced he had to run. That left Dean and Cas at the table and Bobby at his desk shuffling a newspaper around looking for potential cases. Cas looked rough, so Dean shoved his untouched mug of coffee at him and just got himself another. The radio played some far too cheery morning station and the sun was far too bright. No one liked mornings.

"You like bacon?" Dean asked Cas around his eggs, pushing the plate with a few strips on it at him. Why was he even asking? Everyone liked bacon. Cas didnt answer though, he didnt seem to have heard him. So Dean threw two pieces of toast onto the bacon plate and shoved that at him too, telling him 'Breakfast. Eat.'

The bedraggled angel- _man_ took up the first piece of toast and sat quietly chewing on it while Dean hurried to finish his breakfast, he couldnt be late again or the manager would light his sorry ass on fire. On purpose this time.

He threw the plate in the sink too, telling Bobby he'd get them when he got home at one. He didnt have very long shifts at the art store but they made ends meet anyway. They payed for his bacon and his clothes and the fuel for his Baby, thats all he needed.

He clapped Cas on the shoulder on his way by, "Bobby's gonna show you the ropes today," he turned to Bobby at the desk, "Aint that right, old man?"

Bobby glared at him over the paper, "I'll show _you_ old man, ya little-"

" _Thats the spirit!_ " he sprinted upstairs to grab his work shirt not bothering to hear the rest of that sentence. He was gonna be late if he dawdled any longer. He skipped half the steps on the way back down, running out the door and almost forgetting his keys in the process. Also successfully managing to bang his elbow and curse under his breath but that happened every damn time, so whats new?

It was just round the corner but he liked taking his car, she didnt get used much anywhere else. Dropping Sammy off at school on rainy days but thats it. Cos Bobby doesnt let him hunt much, so why would he hunt on his own? Crazy but there you go. Dean was completely capable of killing stuff on his own, he had a pretty good idea of why Bobby kept him home though. He had high hopes Dean would get the idea and just quit, go back to school, do something with his life like Sam. But he could only think about that when he found dad. Until then he'd just keep on living like he was.

Behind his till Dean kept a notepad, partly for noting things down, partly for doodling. His workmates thought his little sketches and cartoons of monsters were weird, he shrugged and carried on scratching away with his pen. It was quiet, like it usually was. Only a handfull of people came in, mostly art students just grabbing the cheap sketchbooks and paints for whatever their portfolio requires. Then theres the old people with their knitting. And the middle aged bearded men seeking to change the world. And last of all the angry, emo teenagers that just no one understands. Dean liked watching the different people walking in and out, noting what they bought and what kind of person they were going by their things. It made long days less boring. And his blue and pink shirt less annoying.

An elderly lady placed a painting by numbers thing on the counter and he ran it through the till, holding out a hand for the five-ninety it cost. Only the lady grabbed a hold of his hand and wouldnt let go. He lifted his head, about to not so politely ask her to let the hell go, but then it clicked. Because the little old lady wasnt the little old lady, right now at least. Something different about her, in her eyes, the way she held herself. It wasnt her.

"Who the hell-"

"Dean," she drawled like she owned him, digging her tallons into his hand, "Cant we be civil about this?"

At that point he realised that he didnt really have much of a choice here. He didnt have a weapon on him and a plastic pen wouldnt really do much against an angel at full power not matter how weak and frail the vessel was.

"Get on with it," he said, trying not to whince because he was sure those six inch nails were drawing blood from the back of his hand.

"We have the issue of Castiel to resolve," the old biddy said keeping her gaze fixed unblinkingly on him,

"Whats to become of your renegade angel."

"He's stayin' with me."

She cocked her head, frowning at him behind her bifocals. Some of her grey hair fell onto her shoulder. Like, out of her head. The vessel was breaking apart, it couldnt hold the angel much longer. Half an hour max.

"But he can do nothing," it went on, "He is of no benefit to you, why keep him? Dont you want another, better, more useful-"

"I think you'll find Cas is pretty damn useful as he is," he fought to keep a straight face, but her hand loosened its grip. The lady frowned harder like the angel in her couldnt understand why Dean would want what was essentially a wingless, powerless angel in a meatsuit. An empty meatsuit, but a vessel nonetheless. Dean grit his teeth as the claws retracted from his flesh and the lady dropped her hand.

"Well," it sounded a little strained, "If you change your mind, you know where we are. I suggest you cover your eyes."

Dean barely had time to do as he was told and duck behind the counter before the lady lit up like a flashlight from her eyes and mouth, and the angel left her body going back upstairs. The empty vessel fell lifelessly to the floor and Dean hoped to God he wasnt dealing with a dead body here, that wouldnt look good at all. But thankfully the lady was breathing, and she had a pulse when Dean vaulted the counter to crouch by her.

Other than the missing lock of hair she was none the worse for ware, thankfully. But Edna was just a little confused when she woke up lying on the floor of the art store with some boy helping her sit up. He did the decent thing and offer her a ride home but apparently she just lived round the corner. Dean did make sure that she could walk by herself though. She thanked him and was on her way before he knew it.

However, Dean was a little shaken up. Aside from that and the claw marks in his hand, he was fine. Didnt stop him being on edge the rest of the day and making a mental note to carry some sort of weapon with him from now on.

Cas noticed right away when he walked in, maybe just cos he knew Dean well enough to notice he was edgy. In hindsight maybe grabbing a beer and chugging half of it as soon as he got in was probably a bit of a giveaway.

The perpetually grumpy man got up from behind the desk and made his way to Dean in the kitchen, maybe a little flustered himself. Dean would say his feathers were ruffled but, well, y'know. He was still a featherbutt though.

"What happened?" he asked after he was done staring at the tiny little scabs where Edna's nails broke the skin. Dean huffed a sigh, motioning for him to go back to his desk. They could talk while he worked.

"One of your feathered friends payed a visit. Tryin' to convince me you were defunct or somethin'," Dean offered Cas the bottle, which he didnt expect him to take but said nothing when he did. "Telling me to trade you in for a newer model."

Cas took a good swig of the drink and set it back on the desk, "Same here."

"Wait," Dean frowned down at him in the chair, "Boys in Halo's were here?"

He nodded, "In the guise of the mailman. Around ten."

Dean cursed while Cas went back to flicking through the papers on the desk, checking for more jobs. The angels had a damn nerve, kicking him out of home and making him a fragile little human, now they turn up telling him he isnt welcome here either? Dean called bullshit right there. It was punishment enough for Cas being stuck down here, he didnt need their shit every ten minutes again.

Cas sighed and laid his hand flat on the newspaper, "Maybe they're right, Dean. Maybe I am useless."

"What?"

"I cant do much now," he explained, "Let them give you someone else if you want. Its fine."

Dean perched on the edge of the desk, making Cas look at him, "We talked about this, Castiel. I _dont want_ someone else."

He was close to saying _'I want you'_ but that would surpass his own level of gayness. Instead he let Cas figure it out on his own, and the former angel looked down at his hands on the desk like he was ashamed he'd even thought of that.

"So," Dean stood up before it could get more depressing, "We're gonna need stuff for dinner tonight, and you're gonna need to wear something other than my clothes. Guess we're going shopping."

"Bobby said to man the desk," Cas countered, gazing at all the five or seven phones around him like it was a military duty. It wasnt _that_ important, the hunters were big boys and could look after their own damn hides for an hour or two.

"Bobby _also_ says he's never had a pedicure," he grabbed his keys from the counter, not bothering to change from his work stuff, "C'mon, featherbutt. Time's awastin'."

Cas picked out most of his stuff, except the hoodies because apparently he thought his old coat would be enough. Dean told him he couldnt keep wearing it or people would start to notice. He'd gotten a funny look from him but Cas complied and let Dean throw some hoodies into the mix. They got enough to last him for a while. Most of it was just a bunch of t-shirts and a few pairs of jeans, obviously boxers and stuff. No shoes though, there were plenty at the house that he could use. Not like he needed special running shoes or anything, a pair of old boots'd be just fine.

Its a little surreal watching him stand helping Dean with making dinner. Dean had him dicing tomatoes for the sauce, he couldnt majorly screw that up if he tried. He was making a sort of mashup with minced beef and pasta. Something easy for a monday night when everyone's fed up with the week already. He liked cooking, despite how he groused when he was feeling a little grumpy or lazy. It was better, felt good to be making things from scratch after the time he spent with dad on the road eating Burget Kings and McDonalds every night. He'd still to try make pie, something he kept telling himself to do, he just didnt have reason to.

He talked away to Cas, telling him his burgers were to die for, Sam said so, and how he had to try the macaroni he made on birthdays. And Cas never said a word, letting Dean babble on and on simply because he was there. The food didnt take long at all, and he took some level of satisfaction when everyone was around the table because you know the grubs good when everyone shuts up and actually eats instead of talking about whatever they hated during their crappy day.

And he knew he could at least do this right, do one thing that made people happy when he couldnt even find his own dad. He sat out on the porch after he cleared up, a beer in hand, and listened to the sound of late summer sunset thinking _'Why did he leave in the first place?'_ Bobby had told all the hunters he knew to call if they so much as caught a glimpse of him. Nothing yet. Just the same as its been since he failed to come home in January. Like he disappeared off the face of the earth.

This whole thing was stupid. The whole angels and monsters life was ridiculous. Like somewhere up there God thought hunters needed some special protection, a helping hand because they're doing the worlds worst job and no one knew. It was all a load of bullshit and Dean knew he couldnt get out even if he wanted, he's been going too long and he's in too deep. All the worlds nasties want to peel his face off with spoons by dint of him being a Winchester. Guilty by association.

Cas was inside, playing scrabble with Sam who refused to believe an angel with a vocabulary wider than the atlantic ocean could beat him. Bobby was at his desk, making sure Cas hadnt fucked up his papers. He'd probably just organised them better, he was a little OCD like that. He liked order. It was just Dean out here. Alone.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and slid his left hand up into his hair taking a fistful of it and yanked hard until thats all he could feel. Not the cold glass in his right hand, nor the warmth of the sun on his bared arms. He couldnt see the warm, orange glow of the sun because his eyes were shut, he couldnt hear the soft murmur of people behind the screen on the back door. He thought about all of the Deans there's been, Dean Smith, Dean Stark, Dean Phillips, the names on fake ID's he used with dad. None of them seemed right, but right now not even Dean Winchester sounded right, didnt sound like him. He was no one.

Memories of better days ran round his head, a tightness in his chest and throat and suddenly, he's glad he was alone.

* * *

He could've saved him, if he'd fucking focused more, he could've found him before he got himself killed. The phonecall came Tuesday at four in the afternoon, five days ago. Some hunter found a body with his tags, his wallet, his fake ID's, everything. Even the photo of mom. He'd gone over and over this, thinking how this might not be him, that it was a trick cos his dad's clever. But thats it. Its over. He failed and dad knew it, wherever he was now.

He'd thrown the phone at the wall, it hit the Zepplin poster and fell into the washbasket. It had rung a few times after, muffled by the clothes. But he ignored it and stared at the other side of the room. Struggling to take it in. He'd lain on his side, both hands covering his ears and grabbing fistfulls of his hair, he thought someone had come in at some point, tried to talk to him, but he'd been too busy finding reasons this was his fault. There were at least five.

His own tags lay on the dresser now, he'd taken them off when he gave up hunting for kicks. You dont need them if you're not chasing death. The only thing round his neck was the necklace Sam gave him one year. He felt like he was choking in here, he crawled over the bed and out the window onto the little, gently sloping part of the roof, right round over the cold, dusty shingles to the flat part. He made sure to nudge the window shut again so no one would find him until he wanted to be found. Its the end of October, its cold, and he wore a t-shirt and torn jeans. He couldnt be bothered grabbing his hoodie.

His jeans snagged on the rough shingles, he fought to keep his head and not just kick at them until they released the frayed edges. He wanted to punch something else. He'd already rammed his hand into one of the metal supports in the little lean-to he kept Baby sheltered in out of sheer frustration and broken it. His hand anyway. The cast was annoying, he couldnt write, hold a gun properly, not even a knife. Cooking was harder, so Bobby told him to sit the hell down and just order take out.

He was restless though, he needed to do something with his hands or he didnt know what he'd do. His left hand felt in his pocket and sure enough the little knife he carried was in there. After the incident at work he carried the thing everywhere, the one warded against angels. He pushed the little catch and the blade flipped out with a little click. He didnt need to be very good with his hand for this.

It hurt, but he hurt worse. In his head, in his chest, it was bad and he needed a distraction and this was it. Sam took it better, he'd cried a little on his own but after a few hours it'd sunk in for him. Dean didnt cry. He put the small cut to his lips, getting the worst of the blood away only for it to come back. _Screw it_ , he thought, and let it run.  
He was frustrated, completely and utterly frustrated. It was a tight feeling in his ribs, the kind you get when you cant do something right or not at all. Pretty apt for this moment in perspective. He was glad no one could find him out here, it was sheltered by the roof and various eves that jut out from it. Windows to rooms that no one used and only housed books and old texts.

Best of all, it was quiet. He could sit out here and watch the world go by, day into night and night into day, and no one would bother him. Bobby knew he came up here, he did it as a kid and it was him that found Dean every time, after every fight with his dad or whatever bothered him. A sad five year old after his moms death that no one would talk to him about. An angry ten year old because no one listened. A lonely fourteen year old, a conflicted sixteen year old after his first kill. Now a frustrated twenty-one year old with nothing to drive him anymore.

Bobby was good at it, dad was an obsessed bastard hell bent on killing whatever monster killed mom. Of course, Dean didnt know what that was because dad never talked about anything. Now he'd never know and it'd haunt him.

There were voices down on the porch below and Dean made sure to keep quiet. It was Sam and Cas he thought, they spoke in whispers and Dean could barely make it out.

"...Dean?"

"I dont know," Sam sounded a little worried, "I havent seen him all day."

"I'll find him," Cas sighed and the porch creaked, "Dont worry about him. He's tough."

Dean nearly laughed out loud, he was anything but tough. That much was evident by the blade in his hand and the blood staining the hem of his shirt and his jeans. He didnt care enough to wipe it away anymore. The little knife glinted in the sun, little droplets of blood shining scarlet. It was pretty in a self destructive way.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the window pushed open to his right, squeaking on its old hinges and swinging back to hit its old shutters with chipping paint. Cas' head appeared through it, and he crawled out onto the roof. Dean didnt need to tell him to shut the window. He didnt say a word when he saw the knife or blood, he only gave a little quiet sigh and a look of pity or disappointment flickered on his face for half a second.

He sat shoulder to shoulder with Dean and carefully pried the little blade from his fingers, shutting it and stopping to admire the warding carved into the wood handle.

"You're crafty, I'll give you that," he mumbled, looping an arm around Dean to press a hand over the cuts to stop the bleeding. Dean would've said he was grateful but he half wanted to tell Cas to piss off and let him destroy himself, slice his arm to ribbons, dig his own fingernails into the wounds and gouge them wider, deeper because nobody cared anyway not anymore.

"How'd you know where I was?" he had to ask.

"You think that you're the only one who comes out here?" Cas shifted so they were more comfortable which ended with Dean half curled up against his side, "The curtains were caught in the window."

Dammit. Next time, next time he'd remember the curtains. "You come out here?"

"Yes," Cas admitted, he spoke quietly like Dean might break if he said stuff too loud, "Its quiet, I like watching the sky sometimes."

Of course he would. Cas had always had an appreciation for simpler things, now he just had more time for them because he wasnt one of the Boys in Halo's. He'd asked Dean in July what would it require for him to keep bees and Dean just told him to google it. He didnt think Cas knew what google was, but he's fucked if he knows how to look after goddamn bees.

His hand hurt inside its cast when he moved his fingers a little, he hadnt taken any painkillers today. He just wanted to feel something. It lay sort of propped up against Cas' thigh the way they sat against the sloping roof quietly for a while, Sam had already signed it and drawn a smiley face. Benny was on his way here and would probably be here for dinner. He had a sudden panic that he hadnt gotten anything in for it, not that he'd be able to make anything too complicated but...

Cas bent his head to speak in a low murmur, "What did you go and do that for? You know I cant fix it now." He didnt sound mad, or disappointed. He was speaking in that way parents do to their kids when they've spilled juice down their shirts or something. Calm and almost reassuring in a weird way.

Dean shrugged as best he could given his position, and deadpanned "For kicks."

_Because I want to feel, because I dont want to feel, because it hurts and I hurt to much, because its the only way I know how to deal with it, okay?_

He was glad Cas couldnt hear his thoughts anymore because they were a screaming, hot mess. He wanted to be in his head about as much as a Jew wanted to be in Nazi Germany.

"Now I know thats a lie," he went on, "You dont have to tell me anything, but I'd rather that if you did it wasnt a lie."

Dean sighed, trying to make Cas let him go but he held fast on to the cut arm. It smarted a little, and Dean hissed through his teeth before he knew he was doing it, "Dammit!"

"You okay?"

"No," Dean bit back, "I'm sure as hell not okay! Look what you found me doing, I'm a mess!"

Cas looked like he wanted to go all grief counsellor on Dean but felt like if he did he'd only get a punch in the face. Dean would probably break his other hand in the process of breaking his nose. Good. More things to think about other than this. He frowned deeper when Cas carefully let go of Deans arm, it'd stopped bleeding, and took hold of his hand instead.

"We're both messes," he said simply, and if this didnt look like the climax of every rom-com he'd ever been dragged along to. "You helped me, its my turn to help you." Cas looked nothing but sympathetic and he held the hand tight as he dared, waiting for Dean to hold it back because he obviously wanted permission. Even now when he's not an angel he still looks for approval and guidance. Dean gave his hand a single squeeze, and Cas started moving back to the window, taking Dean with him. It was a good idea, he needed to get cleaned up before anyone saw his screw up anyway.

Inside is warmer and Dean wants to put on a hoodie to cover up the cuts, they need to be cleaned first though. Cas gave him a fresh change of clothes, and it was funny. For once Cas was actually doing his job and he wasnt even an angel anymore. Maybe the human perspective changed things a little, because he's changed a lot.

While he washed the pink water away down the sink, the front door opened and shut and people greeted people, Dean guessed it was Benny. He didnt feel ready for them yet, he hoped he could sneak back into his room for a while and maybe nap, he's too strung out still. Cas would cover for him, he'd lie about the whole thing. And he'd also confiscate that little knife which was a bit of a con.

Cas had picked out an old, black t-shirt and this long sleeved thing, and a pair of jeans without holes in them. Cas knew him well, knew what he liked wearing. But before he could pull the first shirt on, someone knocked on the bathroom door and Cas' voice asked admittance, and Dean granted him that. He carried a first aid kit, the one from under Deans bed, in his hands. Dean was immediately suspicious as to how the hell he knew where it was. He shook it off, but let him carefully bandage the wounds, just so that the shirts wouldnt irritate them and no blood would seep through. Dean noticed now that Cas had big hands, broad palms with long, nimble fingers. Smooth and gentle in the way they handled such a delicate thing as Dean was. He was reminded of that night with the piece of glass in the kitchen, how he'd crushed it in his hand and turned it to dust, and healed him too. Now he's just doing his best to heal him the old fashioned way.

Dean pulled the white long sleeved shirt over his head, rolling it up over the cast but leaving it down over the bandage. No one needed to see that. Cas gave him a brief smile, leaving him alone in the bathroom again. Voices floated up from downstairs, Benny's among them. Dean thought he might just avoid them for a while, go sleep. The black t-shirt is looser than the white thing, it felt strange for a minute while he got used to two shirts.

Cas was sliding the kit back under his bed when he walked in, straightening and turning to face him with his hands in his pockets, "Benny insisted he make dinner tonight. Say's you deserve a break."

Dean scoffed, "I'm fine-"

"Dont you tell me you're fine," Cas snapped, "Dont- dont _bullshit_ me Dean! I get it, you're grieving. But that out there-" he gestured vaguely to the window, "That isnt fine! Just talk to me next time, okay?"  
Dean hadnt been ready for that, he wasnt used to Cas getting angry with him. Or angry in general. He stood staring blankly for a second before he realised what was wrong. Cas had shown emotion, thats why it was weird. He'd let himself get angry and he'd taken it out on Dean, and Dean wasnt mad at him for it.

Cas shook his head, ran a hand over his face and now he just looked a little worn out, "I'm sorry," he said much quieter, "That was out of order. It wont happen again."

"Cas, its fine. I'm not mad. I was an ass. Its okay to get pissed off," and Cas still looked guilty so he stepped forward and attempted a hug, a little awkward and one sided because Cas wasnt sure what to do here. "This is the part where you hug back, Cas."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

"There you go," Dean smiled for the first time in a while, "See? S'okay. Dont be sorry, its normal to get angry now and then."

He actually heard Cas swallow by his ear and he burried his head at Deans shoulder, "I just...you scared me. I'm-"

"If you say sorry one more time Cas I swear to god I'm putting you outside and locking the window," which was a lie, he liked Cas too much and he'd lost the key. "Its me who should be saying that. And I am, I'm sorry."

Dean was getting too comfortable with Cas this close, but Cas' head was still on his shoulder so he let him hold on a while longer. To be honest, it was nice. It shouldnt have been, but it was. And when he let go, Dean stepped back and gave him the barest reassuring smile.

"I'm gonna take a nap," he said, holding back a yawn, "If Benny's makin' dinner I can sleep."

He hadnt slept in a couple days now, he was tired enough for a week. Cas asked if he needed him to stay, he declined. He wasnt four. He did ask however for Cas to wake him up before it was time to eat. He wanted to be awake for food, because Benny could actually cook better than Dean could. And he made pie sometimes.

And Dean felt weird, after all that. The broment with Cas had been enough to last him for like, a year. No more emotions for them for a while, he hoped. But this is them, when are emotions not involved? Never. Its either Dean feeling put out, Cas repressing his for the sake of trying to be like his old angelic self or both of them repressing everything until it gets to this stage where Dean's bleeding and Cas is this close to crying from frustration and everything else. He doesnt think anyone wants a repeat of today, but as Dean lay down to sleep for a few hours he thought that perhaps in the near future there probably would be.

* * *

Christmas felt weird this year. Whether it was the fact dad was gone or Cas was here, it just felt weird. As usual, Garth was there. Benny too, of course Sam and Dean and Bobby. Cas knew what Christmas was, he'd said that usually it was just a sort of holiday for them upstairs. Nothing more. Here there were celebrations and gift exchanging, things he'd watched and never thought to experience. He was up in his room now. Sam had taken him out and dragged him round the stores selling christmas sweaters and Dean was ninety percent sure he was up there debating whether to actually put it on. It was a ridiculous one, a reindeer with a big red pompom for a nose attached to the front. Ridiculously festive, but it sort of suited him.

Dean was a little pissed he couldnt get out onto his ledge for the snow blocking his window. The snow had been there since the very start of December, so he'd been reduced to either sitting on the porch or in his car. Cas had left him alone, but Dean knew he was keeping tabs on him. He'd check on him when he thought he was sleeping in the mornings, he'd watch him across the room, ask him if he's okay.  
He hadnt missed Cas' weird behavior either. He hadnt been right the past week. Not eating all his food, which was a little worrying since Cas loved his food. Especially when Dean made burgers, they were his favourite, but recently he'd been picking at his dinner, leaving a lot on his plate. And then there was the silence, he wouldnt talk much.

Dean made his way upstairs now, he knocked twice on Cas' door and opened it slowly. Cas had picked the room nearest Deans, and he thought that was cos of his silly protectiveness, the responsibility he felt over the man. Just in case the things that go bump in the night came back for Dean and ate him all up.

Cas stood in front of the old mirror picking at the hem of the sweater like he couldnt decide if he was sure about wearing it now he had it on. Underneath he wore a plain white shirt and a pair of old jeans. In short, the only difference was the christmas sweater.

"You coming down so we can eat or what?"

Cas turned his head a little, then stared back at his own face in the mirror. "I...I'm not hungry."

Dean knew that was utter bullshit, because Cas hadnt eaten since last night and he'd only had half of his chicken fillet before declaring he wasnt hungry. Broken record Cas, he thought to himself, Always either 'not hungry' or 'I dont feel well.'

"Come on, buddy," Dean refused to budge, "Please? For me?" He even batter his eyelashes so he looked like the cutest little duckie in the world. But Cas didnt even look, didnt even so much as sigh irritatedly like he usually would.

Eventually he turned around with a halfhearted smile, Dean stopped him with a hand on his chest when he passed him. "We're talking about this later," he told him quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of dinner being dished out downstairs.

Cas got a full plate just like everyone else, except he ate two roast potatoes, four baby carrots and a little bit of the turkey, then just pushed things around his plate while everyone else ate and joked and pulled crackers. Benny pulled one with him, and he put the hat on. But that was it, the extent of his participation. Oh, he helped Dean clear things away and wash up, had a little eggnog into which Sam had poured like half a bottle of rum just to spite Dean. He drank that and anounced he was tired and was going upstairs to bed before they even started on the presents. That was bullshit too because he'd slept nearly all day too.

Sam handed Dean his stuff, which he opened with as much enthusiasm as he could muster while his angel upstairs probably listening to all this and feeling excluded. He got a bracelet, a giftcard for a music store and a polaroid camera with a stack of paper for it. The camera was from Garth, he often picked up strange things along the way. The bracelet from Benny and the giftcard from Sam. Bobby never gave nor did he receive. He said he was too old for this crap anyway. Still, one lonely box sat under the tree and Dean knew whose it was.

He waited until Sam had opened all his and grabbed it and his things, telling them he was gonna give Cas his, he didnt care if he was sleeping, Cas would get it. He pushed the door to Cas' room open slowly again, and the man was sitting on his bed just running his hand through and through his hair like it solved anything.

"Hey bud," he said softly, just like Cas had spoken to him not long ago, and shut the door. "Got your present."

"You didnt need to get me anything," he said simply, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. He'd shed his sweater and it lay on the floor a little ways from the washbasket. Cas was a total neat freak, so the negligance to put the sweater in its proper place told Dean there was definitely something wrong. He took a seat next to him, their knees touched a little and Cas didnt say a word.

Downstairs Bobby started up his old gramophone with even older christmas music. It played faintly, but loud enough for them to hear.

"Well I did," he took Cas' hand and pushed the small box into it, closing his fingers around it, "Go ahead. Open it."

Cas sighed and turned it over in his hands, the contents rattled a little. He made no move to untie the ribbon on it or anything, and put it aside instead.

"Cas please," Dean pushed the polaroid out of the way and slid closer to his side, "Tell me whats wrong. I wanna help."

He might've been a little tipsy on eggnog laced with copious amounts of alcohol but he knew when Cas wasnt right, and that was now. So he laid his hand on Cas' shoulder and desperately tried to get through to Cas. Then the miracle happened.

Cas took a long breath, "I suppose you could say that...I miss them."

"Tell me."

Cas laughed once, "Its stupid really, to feel lonely when I'm surrounded by people. But I do." He looked up from the floor and met Deans gaze with watery eyes, "I miss home."

Dean didnt think he's ever seen someone look this sad, just the look of almost desperation. Almost like he's begging Dean to make it alright. But Dean couldnt send him home, he couldnt bring them all down here, he couldnt give Cas his wings, he couldnt do anything.

So he wound an arm around Cas, then the other when he held Dean too. Clung onto him really, like Deans an anchor in an impossibly rough storm he knows he cant last alone.

"Hey," Dean told him, trying for a little jokingly but he missed it a bit, "No crying, its christmas, it aint allowed."

He tried, god he tried, to be good at this comforting shit but the truth was he was still in a little bit of a stupor. The feeling of something being not right got to him more than it should've and he was just sort of floating, had been since he found out dad was dead and gone, but this he could do. He could try. And he could hold on tight and pretend he was alright when he wasnt because he'd been doing that forever.   
"C'mon," Dean reached around Cas for the small box and pushed it back into his hands. He wanted him to open it now, in front of him. He didnt know why, maybe affirmation that Cas liked his gift. "Open it before I do."

Cas sniffed once but he obeyed, slipping the ribbon from the box and pulling the lid off too slowly for Deans liking. But it was open, and he took the silver chain delicately and raised it from the tissue paper lining of the box. Dangling from his hand on the chain were a set of tags, not unlike Deans own, except with Cas' name etched on them.

Not just his name though, one had an extract from a poem he liked, and Dean remembered the day he suddenly came out with it. Randomly reciting it to Dean from the desk.

_"How strange it is that man on earth should roam, and lead a life of woe, but not forsake, his rugged path; nor dare he view alone his future doom which is but to awake."_

_"Whats that, Cas?"_

_"John Keats," he replied, "A great man, and a greater poet."_

_"What was that again?" And Cas smiled softly and repeated the four lines for Dean again._

Cas turned them in his palm, his finger running over his name on the first tag. He'd wanted his second name to be Winchester, like Dean, but Dean thought there was too much bad attached to that name. He'd suggested Campbell, like his mom, and Cas liked that. So on the tag was etched Castiel Campbell and underneath a small engraving of a bird. It hadnt been necessary but Dean wanted it to be special for him. The other tag held the quote, it was relatively plain in comparison but it was Cas' now. All his.

"You remembered," Cas mumbled, turning them so they caught the light. He had the faintest smile on his lips and Dean knew he liked them. If he didnt, he'd have let Dean know by now, he was a little blunt sometimes.

"Yeah."

Dean knew why hunters had tags, they were in case you died and someone found you they knew which one it was. According to the hunter who found dads he would never have known otherwise, the body was so beat up and half way to nothing. He hoped to god no one was going to find Cas and have to call in with his tags because Cas couldnt.

They were just a christmas gift to his best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Thank you, Dean," he said slipping the chain over his head, "I love them."

"And I meant it. You know you've got a home here," Dean told him because he still looked a little sad, "And we're your family too. I know it's nothing compared to what you had but-"

He stopped because Cas was suddenly hugging him again, his arms up around his neck, "You are more than enough. Thank you."

Dean could do little else than hug back and hope to god Cas wasnt lying for his benefit. "So you're good? No more lonely Cas, back to eating your food cos I know you're hungry."

"Okay."

"If you come back down with me I'll make you a turkey sandwich, how's that sound?"

Cas moved back to give him a slightly sheepish smile, and nodded once, "Great."

* * *

It became pretty clear that Cas really did like his tags. He'd wear them outside his shirts and fiddle with them constantly. Dean took to wearing his again, but he kept them under his clothes instead of out on show. He's not exactly proud of them, just another reminder he's a freak. Cas' though are shiny and new and havent been tainted by anything.

He didnt know why he started wearing them again, he saw them on the dresser and just slipped them over his head and stared at them in the small mirror for a while. They felt odd after an age of not wearing them. He thought it was a need to be close to dad somehow, a subconscious need at that. He certainly wasnt okay though, no matter how he denied it, he didnt say how many nights he'd lain awake wishing he had something sharp just to take the stress away. He's fucked up and he knows it, but that didnt mean he was going to sit and talk about his feelings like some preteen girl at a sleepover. His problems were his own and he'd deal with it on his own, he'd suck it up and deal with it.

Its mid May, months since dad turned up dead, so he didnt know why he was still hung on the subject. The sooner he grew a pair and moved on the better. Sam was fine, why shouldnt he be? But making dinner he was in a sort of limbo, he didnt really see what he was doing with the fish, or the potatoes, but he somehow turned out a meal that was edible. It was a miracle he didnt break any plates when he washed up, or end up dropping his beer on the carpet when they sat down to watch TV after. He had no idea what the hell was wrong with him.

What he did do was turn in early, nine thirty actually. Far earlier than he usually did. He wasnt tired, he was just worried he'd zone out and no one would be able to get him back. He managed to get to his room, shed his jeans and overshirt, climb into bed without doing something to break anything.

And time just passed, he just lay there and he was neither alive nor dead. He just existed. Sort of lying in a half assed coma staring at the wall while Guns N Roses started playing in that old CD player because he couldnt be bothered changing the track or the disk. November Rain, he thought it was, but he couldnt be sure. Something was ringing in his ears and he couldnt hear much. The sun disappeared completely and his room fell into darkness save the soft blue glow from the CD player and the little sliver of light coming from under the door. Voices floated upstairs, surely its been hours but they're still watching whatever show Bobby had on.

Sam would be going to bed soon, or maybe he already had. As long as he got up and off to school in the morning. But what day was it tomorrow? Dean couldnt remember. He did remember though that he didnt have work. It was okay. And it randomly occurred to him that he was now, in fact, an orphan in technicality. They both were, but Dean didnt matter. Its Sam that mattered, from the very beginning.

 _Look after Sammy, Dean_ -

Three knocks on his door, it opened slowly. He didnt look up but he thought he recognised the legs or maybe he didnt. Who the hell recognises legs? The legs cross the room and Cas says his name with a questioning lilt to it. Asking if he's okay, can he hear him maybe. But Dean kept his mouth shut.

Cas sat himself on the edge of the bed, his hand hovered over his shoulder. More words, he didnt reply. Now the man touched his hair, running the hand over his head slowly. And sound rushed back.

Cas is speaking quietly and fast, like some other language he didnt understand. Which was entirely possible. Dean hears short sylibles, sounds made in the back of the throat, he thinks Cas might be speaking Enochian, he's not sure, he's not...

He hears his name mixed in too, so he knows its about him. And he slowly comes back.

"Dean," Cas says it a little louder this time, then plunges straight back into that half rushed murmur of words Dean doesnt understand at all.

"Dean," he says again, and goes back to English, "Dean why are you crying? Whats wrong?"

Dean frowned, "Not crying." He's not, because he doesnt remember starting at all. Cas is lying to draw words from him.

His thumb swiped over Deans cheek just under his eye, he showed him the wetness captured there, "Yes, you are."

"Oh."

"Dean please," Cas sounded half desperate, "Tell me whats wrong."

"I dont know," he said honestly, "I dont know, I dont..."

The hand returned to his hair and he shut his eyes again, listening to Cas murmur in the strange tongue again because he liked the sound.

"Tell me what to do," Cas broke off mid sentence and almost begged him, "I'm trying I dont- Just tell me please, Dean."

 _Maybe thats the only thing Cas knows how to do_ , he thought a little bitterly, _Follow goddamn orders. Cant think for himself if his life- no_.

No it wasnt Cas' fault, none of it was. If anything it was Deans. The whole hot mess of it. He had to remember that Castiel was an angel, his angel. Designed to follow him to hell and back, do what he was told, but he hadnt been very good at it, had he? Maybe he was making up for lost time, maybe he just wasnt the greatest at knowing what to do.

He took the sheets Cas was sitting on and gave them a good tug to hold them open, "Lie down. Please."  
It was a long shot but the shape of another person beside him would make the tightness in his chest go away. Even if it just made Cas feel better, stopped him worrying so damn much over nothing. And he did, he lay down with his back to Dean and let him hold on around his chest. But he felt all tense beside Dean, and his hand hovered over his forearm like he was scared to touch in case he broke him.

"Its okay, Cas," his voice most definitely didnt break, "Just a bad day."

He turned his head a little, "Remember the last time you had a bad day."

Dean sighed, settling his head on the pillow, "I havent done anything. I promise. I'll be fine."

"You scare me sometimes."

"I know."

"I cant protect you anymore. Not like I used to. Thats why I'm scared. We're both so fragile."

He felt Cas grip his forearm tightly, in a protective way. He finally settled, Dean thought maybe he'd gotten a little tired. Maybe he thought because Dean was relaxing he could too. He never really relaxed though, he was always filled with restless energy he couldnt displace.

Dean reached for the tags hanging around Cas' neck and held them in his fist, the cold metal grounded him somehow. Brought reality back to this impossible situation. He asked Cas to speak again in that funny sounding language, and he obliged. The words flowed from him and it was more soothing than any lullaby. Their story was like some old fairytale no one believed, like an original tale with all the gorey bits left in. All the monsters in their rawest form. None of the true love at the end, no kingdom for a prize. The same, stupid, horrible end that always ends with someone dead. There is no happy ending for anyone involved. No matter how they tried and tried it all ends the same, two feet wide and six foot deep. Or in their case torn to pieces by some Grimm Brothers nasty that no one believes in. Whether its the big bad wolf or a nice old granny eating kids because she's a cannibal witch.

No one's gonna save them in the end, there's no prince charming for the damned.

"I want this to be over," Cas said in English, "Back to us just being us."

"When you were a stoic piece of rock and I was an obsessed dick?"

Cas didnt answer, but he shuffled down under the covers, closer to Dean. He knew what he meant though, because things were a lot simpler then. Things werent complicated by powerless angels and half retired hunters with abandonment issues and dead parents.

"I know, Cas," Dean hugged him tighter because no one else was here to see, "I know."


	3. Rivers Always Reach The Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for alcohol as a coping mechanism

_Time and again boys are raised to be men_  
 _Impatient they start, fearful at the end_  
 _But here was a man mourning tomorrow_  
 _He drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow_

**_A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers_ **

* * *

 

Three months went past without much change. Cas got a job, thats about it. Sam applied for colleges. Not much happened. A dull three months. And not one of those days were spent talking about Deans bad day that ended with Cas spending the night in his room for the first time in several months. Not one of those nights were spent like that one either. Cas had woken up, accidentally roused Dean in the process of getting up and claimed he was just going for a shower he'd see him at breakfast. Nothing more was said.

Perhaps it was for the best. Dwelling on things usually led to awkward situations no one wanted to be in.  
Cas' job was at the library, taking stocks and manning the desk. Just a paid version of what he did here. Didnt pay much, but he'd picked the job out himself and Cas liked the feeling of free will even if it was just choosing what was for dinner or the clothes on his back. Dean didnt mind it when Cas chose what they ate either. He usually picked something with red meat and pinned it on how the previous inhabitant of his vessel had a taste for it. So burgers, spaghetti, steaks were all popular.

They were getting back into the usual swing of things, breakfast, work, home, dinner, TV, bed. Then just rinse, lather and repeat. Only this time Cas was included in the mix.

Sam would come home from school, Dean would help with whatever homework he could, he'd make dinner and they'd eat. Dean wouldnt say he was fine though, he wasnt fine. Cas had taken to the use of the word 'bullshit' whenever he thought Dean was lying, it sounded wrong coming from him so Dean tried not to lie, or at the very least sound convincing when he did to avoid him using it. All he got was a squinty face, 'Bullshit,' and a stare off until he told Cas a censored version of the truth. Like 'I've been better,' or 'Just a bad day, I'll be okay tomorrow.'

But today Sam had asked if he was okay, he'd lied and said he was perfectly fine. Only to have the lanky teenager block the kitchen doorway and ask him for the truth.

"I mean it, Sam," he said, "Next person who asks if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. I'm fine!"

"No, Dean," Sam stopped him again, "You're not."

And Dean finally lost patience with him, he caved in and just let his mouth run.

"Okay, you want to know how I'm feeling?" he snapped, "Fine, I'm feeling _crap_. Because if I'd found dad before he got ripped to shreds he'd still be alive!"

"We dont know that-"

"If I'd just fucking focused more, maybe he'd still be here. Its the fucking _guilt_ , Sammy," his voice broke this time and he refused to believe that single tear actually happened, "You wanted to know how I was feeling, well thats it. So tell me, what the hell could you say that'd ever make that alright? Nothing."

He barged past, running a hand over his face on his way out to the back porch, down the steps and out into the summer heat. Out into the rats maze of cars, away from the house, and he started running. In and out between junkers and wrecks, piles higher than his head and trucks with no wheels. He only stopped when he found the car he'd been trying to get into for days and gave up, the rust coloured truck that had a box of stuff in the back that might've been worth something. And his hands found a crowbar, he felt the weight in his hand for a second and swung blindly in the direction of the car. He barely heard the smash when the crowbar hit the glass of the rear window. Or the loud bang when it hit the door, and the truck bed. He's hitting things because it feels good. Real good.

When he had no strength left in his arms to swing the metal bar anymore, it dropped and clanged a little. And it was too quiet for him to be standing under the blazing sun for long without doing anything.

So he dragged his feet towards the truck, he could open the door now since the window was smashed and he pretty much wrecked it. He was still breathing heavy, but he ignored it. The door made a horrible squeak and fell off its higes when he tugged it open, he let it fall and hit the floor. The box inside was covered with glass from the shattered window, and inside it were small things that no one else would've looked twice at. A watch, a pair of boots, a wallet with nothing in it, a journal. And a familiar set of tags. Tags with the name John Winchester on them and a wallet with his dads fake ID in it, and his dads watch and boots and his dads journal. His dads things hidden away in this old truck from prying eyes, away from him. What, Bobby didnt even think he might want something from his things? Not even the tags? The goddamn journal?

He probably didnt think he'd find the truck all the way in here or that he'd even bother looking. That not seeing the things would help him get over it quicker. Well that plan worked spectacularly then didnt it? He didnt even realise that his hand had little cuts from the glass on it until the blood smudged on the cardboard box and shoes. Even then he didnt bother with cleaning them up. Instead he grabbed the box and headed back the way he came to whatever lay in the house for him.

* * *

 

The box landed with a thud on Bobby's desk and the man looked up from the book he was looking over, nearly forgetting the phone in his hand. He stared at Dean for a moment who looked pretty pissed off, ready to pick a fight. "I'll call you back," and he hung up on the hunter asking what kind of monster left a blue handprint on its victims.  


Crowley was in the room too, hovering near Bobby's desk with some smug look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Deans glare must've put him off and he almost shrank back from it. Dean couldnt help feeling a little satisfied with that, and Bobby told the angel to scat before he sygil'd him.  


"You found it," Bobby said simply, stating the obvious."  


"You bet I found it," Dean debated adding 'asshole' on the end, but the man was like an uncle to him.

"My question is why I had to find it. Why it was hidden in a friggin' truck."  


He sighed, resetting the cap on his head and reaching into the box to pull out the journal and tags. "We thought it'd be best-"  


"Yeah you thought," Dean interrupted, "You dont think I might've wanted to see it?"  


Bobby opened the journal carefully, flipping through the pages, "Believe me, it was hard keepin' it from you."  


"Then why did you?" he raised his voice and Bobby couldnt even look at him. Shame maybe? Dean would've laughed but he was too angry so he grit his teeth instead.  


"Look at yourself!" He raised his voice to match Deans, reminding him of his place, "You were a damn wreck without all this, you dont think having constant reminders like his goddamn tags," he shook the items in question at Dean for emphasis, "Would make it worse?"  


"How would you know?"  


Bobby took on a strange look, "Boy, you dont know a damn thing. Git." He put the things back in the box and pushed it towards Dean, refusing to look at him until he was gone. Dean was still angry, and it hurt too. So he grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels from the side on his way through the kitchen. Benny just came through the front door, blood on his jacket, and passed Dean in the hall.  


"Really brother," he said, "The whole bottle?"  


Dean started climbing the stairs, "You fucking bet."  


He planned on not seeing anyone for the next several hours. Anyone else who wanted to speak to him would have to deal with a drunk and pissed off Dean. Drunk and pissed off wasnt a good combination with him.

* * *

 

He had Led Zep on this time, and the whiskey was burning his throat bad, but he thought it was better than the alternative. He took another swig, staring at the ceiling while rolling his fathers tags in his left hand. The box of stuff lay on his bed, the journal open on the sheets. He'd started reading, then decided he was too pissed off and either needed glasses or he was getting drunker. His floor wasnt ideal for getting drunk, but it would suffice.  


He caught a glimpse of his watch, it said six-thirty. It had been his turn to make dinner since Benny had just come off a hunt, but instead he'd been up here with his good buddy Jack for three hours. When this bottle was done there was a case of cheap wine under his bed. Benny had a guy who could get them cheap booze with high alcohol content, and they just never drank it. Dean was able to smuggle some upstairs for lonely nights he needed a drink. He was starting to lip sync with the words in the song, a sign he was getting pretty drunk. But really he couldnt care less. If he was drunk then he couldnt think about any stupid crap that really needed thought about.  


The door opened, and Benny looked at him like he wasnt lying spread eagle on his back with a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a dead mans tags in the other.  


"Foods on the table," he said in that southern accent Dean always found a little weird. "You comin' down for dinner?"  


He raised the bottle and swirled the liquid inside it a little, "Got my dinner right here, Benny boy."  


"So, you just gonna drink all night?"  


"Thats the plan. Drink till I pass out, then deal with it in the mornin'."  


Benny shook his head, "You're being ridiculous, Dean."  


"You're bein' a ridiculous...bean," he chuckled to himself, it wasnt even funny but he was getting towards pretty drunk. But Benny left him then, shutting the door behind him and leaving him to stare at the cracks in the ceiling, and the funny stain in the corner. The grey carpet had a scarlet stain on it near Deans head, blood. It was from Cas when Dean stabbed him in the chest the night they met. He'd shifted his room again, his bed was in the far corner against the wall now and everything else just wherever he felt like it. A footlocker under the window that held guns, knives and other suspicious equipment and had a huge padlock on it at Cas' request. To stop him going in and ending himself or something. Cas didnt know about the angel warded knives under the mattress though.  


A few hours passed and he was nearly finished the whole bottle, about an eighth left in it and the door opened again, and Cas shut it behind him. Dean's pretty out of it, but he knows who it is. Cas sat on his bed and picked up the journal. Dean didnt care. Cas could do what he wanted, he didnt bother Dean.  


"Your father," he said, Dean turned his head, "Had beautiful handwriting."  


He's staring intently at the pages, carefully handling them like they'd break.  


Dean let his hand fall until the bottle rested on the carpet, the one holding the tags still hovered mid air. The chain wrapped around his fingers, the pieces of metal resting in his cupped palm facing the ceiling. He kept his gaze fixed on Cas as he flipped through the journal. Somehow he was more in focus than the rest of the room.  


"Anyone ever tell you you're pretty?" he asked Cas, smiling when he looked up at Dean showing the blue in his eyes.  


"I cant say they have."

"Well you're pretty," Dean knows he's drunk, but he doesnt really care. Its fun to tell Cas nice things. And the fuzzy feeling in his limbs is kinda cool too. Its not as good as being high though, he could completely zone out when he was high.  


Cas smiled for a second, "Thank you, Dean."  


Dean took another drink from the bottle, a long one, and some spilled down his chin when a pair of hands took it away. He grumbled, wiped it away and sat up, reaching for the bottle again but it was held out of reach.  


"Cas," he moaned, "C'mon, gimme-" he made grabbing motions at it, but Cas only stared into his eyes unblinkingly, a silent No. "Fine. You take a drink."  


"No, Dean-"  


"Just a taste," he coaxed, "Go on. For me?"  


He knew he was being a little shit because Cas had this thing where he was trying to 'make up for lost time' and do what Dean asked when he told him. Cas glared at him while he grinned obnoxiously in his intoxicated state, sighing before sitting on the carpet beside Dean, muttering something about this being completely ridiculous.  


He brought the bottle to his lips, tipping his head back to get what was left in the bottle and somehow ended up getting a drop or two down his chin. He screwed up his face at the bitter taste and the burn,

"Ugh, that is repulsive."  


Dean still grinned at him, staring at the droplets making tracks from his chin down to his neck. "Tip your chin up a sec, you've got..."  


He'd blame this on the alcohol later, and even deny it happened. Didnt change the fact he leaned forward and kissed the whiskey away from Cas' neck, or that he heard a tiny gasp escape Cas' parted lips. It only served to encourage him, he planted his right hand on the other side of Cas' hips and dragged his mouth up his exposed throat with the occasional kiss, and he felt him swallow once or twice. He kissed the side of his jaw, moving to the corner of his lips and eventually hit home, sucking lightly on his lower lip. He's drunk and its been a while so its probably the sensation more than anything, but damn its nice. It tastes of whiskey and warm like a summer evening.  


"Dean," Cas almost groans it between Deans kissing, "Stop-"  


He stops, pulls back enough to speak, "Why? Dont you like it?"  


Cas didnt answer right away and instead he sighs and the breath feels nice on Deans mouth, making him smile. Cas' eyes were shut and Dean wanted him to open them so he could see the blue again, they were really nice.  


"Because you're drunk," he said eventually, pushing Dean back by his shoulder, "You dont know what you want."  


"I want you, thats what I-"  


"Tell me that in the morning and I'll believe you."  


Dean sat back from Cas and huffed at him, "But I wont remember. You remind me."  


He laughed once, "Okay, I'll remind you."  


He flopped back onto the carpet, the tags forgotten somewhere near his head, and sighed dramatically, "But I wanna snuggle _now_ , Cas..."  


Cas laughed again, "Now I know you're _definitely_ drunk. Go to bed, you'll have a hangover tomorrow."  


Dean grumbled and hauled himself up off the floor, just to his knees mind you, and shuffled to the bed. He dragged the box from the bed, making an attempt to crawl into it, Cas didnt bother helping. He just sat back and chuckled at him doing as he was told for once. Mainly because he was feeling ill already and had the beginnings of a headache. When he was curled under the sheets, Cas gathered his dads things in the box and picked it up. Dean protested without words, and Cas turned back to give him one of his 'dont be obtuse' looks. "I'm putting it on the footlocker, Dean. I'm not stealing it."  


"Okay." He's half gone already, nearly asleep under the covers. He barely remembers what day it is let alone why he had been upset before. But it involved that box, he's sure. "Its always you lookin' after me, isnt it? I'm always the one who messes up..."  


"Thats my job," Cas pulled the covers farther up to his shoulders and he felt like a little kid. A little kid with nearly a whole bottle of whiskey in his belly and just the start of a hangover making his head hurt.

"Just go to sleep, Dean."

* * *

So far this morning he's told four people to "Oh my God shut up," complained about things being too bright and been sick once, and only once because he hadnt drank enough for more. He still hadnt risked eating and told them to keep their food away from him, anything that smelled good made him queasy. He wasnt usually this much of a freakin' light weight. Maybe too much too soon made it worse.

But he did know his head hurt like hell, his stomach frequently did backflips and his eyeballs needed darkness. If he didnt know better he'd say he was turning vamp. Dean called in sick to work, no way he was going in like this. He had, however, apologised to Bobby for being such a bitch about dads stuff, and to Sam for bitching in general and got off too lightly he thought. He deserved a smack in the mouth at least.  


With his face burried in a cushion from the couch he was hugging tight, his feet up on the sofa while he waited for the asprin to kick in, he waited for Cas to come in and take sympathy on him, he was the only one who would. Sam closed doors a little too loud, Bobby smacked phones down and Benny talked too loud. And Crowley was just an ass in general. He could go back to wherever he crawled out of.  


Dean had a flyaway thought that he'd still to make dinner cos Benny did last night. He really couldnt face that he'd just order something if it came to more than microwaving stuff. That really had been the worst idea in his history, drinking it straight and from the bottle. He swore he'd end up stabbing someone. The couch dipped at his feet and he looked up to find who he'd been waiting for slouched there, fiddling with the cuff of his hoodie.  


"How much do you remember from last night?" he asked quietly, Dean was so glad he chose to be quiet.  


He shook his head carefully, "Not much. Hurts remembering."  


"You told me to remind you of something."  


"What was it?"  


Cas sighed a little, "You told me you wanted me, I said you didnt know what you wanted because you were drunk and you wanted me to remind you in the morning."  


He hid his face again with a groan, "I was that drunk, huh?"  


"Thats what I said."  


It was all starting to come back quicker than Dean would like, and he burrowed down against the couch with a moan partly from his headache and partly from embarrassment.  


_Anyone ever tell you you're pretty?_  
  


_I cant say they have._  
  


_Well you're pretty._  
  


_Thank you Dean._  
  


"Oh Christ, I _was_ that drunk..." Seriously? From that little drink? He began wondering if Bobby had been mixing Jager with the whiskey again to catch whoever had been drinking it. Well it wasnt Dean so it must've been Benny or Garth. Or Sam.  


Maybe thats why the old man had thought Deans misery was so hilarious...  


Cas hadnt said anything for a while now, so Dean nudged his leg with his foot, "Feel sorry for me, I'm miserable."  


"No," Cas shoved back, "Because it was your own fault, drinking all day."  


He moaned like a little kid and curled around the cushion, half in the hopes Cas would feel some sympathy now, but no such luck. He just laughed and left Dean in his misery to suffer his imovable headache. And people continued slamming doors and talking too loud until he shifted himself up from the couch, grumbling something at Sam who thought it was hilarious to yell something in his ear after slapping Dean upside his sore head. He didnt care if Sam was his brother he'd stab him in the leg if he didnt stop.  


It wasnt much better upstairs either because the noise just traveled up through the floor. So he wrapped a pillow around his head and prayed for it to just go away and allow him to sleep off the hangover. He didnt realise he'd fallen asleep until he woke up to a darkened room and no longer felt sick, but hungry instead. So he dragged himself out of the bed, covers wrapped around his shoulders because his blankets are warm. The whole house was quiet, everyone's in bed he thought. Midnight snack? More like two in the morning snack.  


He just grabbed the cold cuts from the fridge and made a sandwich for himself, taking a can of coke as a second thought, and made his way back upstairs. Only to pause outside Cas' room upon hearing pretty out of place sounds. Because either he was doing what Dean thought he was, or he was having trouble with fitted sheets at two am. So he did what any good friend would do, and that was bang his fist on the doorframe and say loud enough for him to hear "Havin' fun in there, Cas?" as revenge for earlier. And it made up for Cas catching him drunk last night. Behind the closed door he heard something hit the floor and Cas curse under his breath a couple times.  


"Go away, Dean its two in the morning," he hissed, "Piss off back to bed or something!"  


"Love you too huggy bear," Dean laughed quietly, "Hope you're thinking of me."  


Cas swore again, Dean was pretty certain where he'd learned all that and it wasnt from him.  


"You're still there, arent you?"  


"Aw did I put you off?"  


"Dean," something hit the door, Dean thought it was a pillow, "Fuck off!"  


"Will you both just shut up, seriously!" Sam joined in from the room next door, "I have school tomorrow!"  


Cas grumbled again, Dean guessed it was profane, and it sounded like he was rolling over and grouchilly resetting the covers over himself, so Dean laughed to himself and went back to his room, knowing he'd successfully irritated Cas well and truly. He'd probably pay for it, but for now he could grin away and eat his sandwich. He was a little concerned that he wasnt at least a little disgusted he'd basically had a conversation with Cas while he jerked off, but heck it was just Cas. Not like he'd stood and watched, was it?  


He could imagine his irritated glare though, the one he got a lot these days. It was enough to keep him smiling smugly for a while after. He ate the sandwich quietly, drank his juice. Maybe he was still a little drunk and thats why he didnt feel weird. He shrugged it off and burrowed down in the blankets. His plan was to sleep till noon, get up and eat, then sleep for another five hours because he had nothing to do.

* * *

Eight months is a long time. Long enough for them to teach Cas how to drive, hook him up with a rusty old car because everyone needs a crappy first car and let him loose with it on the road. Also enough time for Sam to have found a college he liked, got accepted to and suddenly he's at Stanford and the house felt a little more empty. Most of the time it was just Bobby, Dean and Cas, people came and went but not much. 

Dean wasnt mad Sam was gone, he was making something of himself at college like Dean never had the chance to. He thought he was too old now to even think about it, if you counted twenty-two as too old. Which he did. He'd lost count how many times they'd tried to convince him to at least try it but he said no each and every time. He was stuck with what his dad taught him and he'd die with a gun in his hand before he reached seventy, he knew it.  


He hunted on his own sometimes, just ghosts and things. Plenty of those hanging around. Cas kept badgering him to take him with, but he never would. "Be normal," he said, "I had my chance, this is yours." He stopped telling Cas when he was going now to avoid such conversations. They usually led to puppy eyes and whining.  


Sam called every saturday to tell him how he was doing. He'd met a nice girl called Jess and he liked her apparently. Good, he was getting out there and having a life. Thats Deans happy ending. If he saw him get married and became an uncle, thats good enough for him. This particular hunt though, he'd forgotten his phone charger and he'd let it die, which was a stupid move. He had been away from hime for about a week now, no charger, no motivation to go to a pay phone. Too busy otherwise, because the drive had been long enough, he noticed he'd been taking hunts farther and farther away for some reason. And this ghost was a stubborn ass bitch, mainly cos he couldnt find where the bastard was burried. Turns out his remains were hidden in some creepy dude's attic. 

But now he's pulling up outside home at twelve thirty in the morning and he know's he's gonna get a yelling at from someone at least. He didnt expect though to be grabbing some leftovers to heat up, turn around and drop the plastic container because someone's fist smacked him across the face. He said fist but it felt like a block of concrete on his bruised cheek.  


" _You_ ," the someone hissed in the quiet kitchen, "You couldnt just pick up a damn phone, could you?"  


He rubbed his jaw and bent to pick up the tub that thankfully had stayed shut, "Nice to see you too, Cas. My phone died."  


"For four days?"  


He sighed dramatically and shoved the tub in the microwave. He needed to eat something not fast food or he'd die of a heart attack in ten minutes. Cas sounded like a clingy husband or something, the whole 'We were worried sick!' spouse routine was new and he'd remember his charger next time. He didnt want a repeat of this.  


"I forgot my charger," he said, waiting for the whatever-it-was to heat up. "I'm a big boy, Cas, I can handle Casper the unfriendly ghost."  


He looked absolutely seething and his fists clenched as he glared like he was going to clock him one again. Cas wasnt known to be this violent usually, he must've been pretty pissed at Dean to actually hurt him. His expression softened minutely when he flicked on the light and noticed the various cuts and bruises on Dean from his little exploits.  


"Clearly." Cas grumbled, "You are infuriating, Dean Winchester."  


Dean yanked his tags over his head, the chain was starting to annoy him. He didnt need them now he was home anyway. Cas still wore his, Dean was kinda glad somehow. The microwave light flicked off, the bell was broken so thats the only way you could tell it was done. The plastic was hot and Dean burned his fingers in his haste to get the lid off what appeared to be some sort of chickeney-cheesey-pasta thing. He didnt remember making it, he'd probably get food poisoning if it was that old. But he didnt care, he was ravenous.  


Dean ended up burning his mouth too, but hot damn it was actually really good. Maybe Benny had made it, but he usually just made southern food with weird names and were fried to within an inch of its life.  


"Like it?" Cas asked, hopping up onto the counter next to him. It was weird how comfortable Cas had gotten here. He'd really made himself at home, he picked out his own bedsheets and everything. The fact he was this at ease here just served to show he'd adjusted perfectly to his new humanity. It sort of gave Dean a little warm feeling in the middle of his chest, and it felt nice, right.  


"Yeah," he replied around a mouthful of the stuff, "Real good. Why, who made it?"  


He had a sudden stab of fear because if it was one of Bobbys it-tastes-good-so-who-cares-if-it-kills-you experiments then he was probably gonna die in twenty-four hours.  


Cas had a weirdly proud look on him, "I did."  


"You made this?" he paused in eating, "Wow. I didnt know you could cook."  


"I learned from the best," Cas told him, and that made Dean smile to himself because it was him that taught Cas the basics, "Glad you like it."  


It seemed the hard feelings about Dean being not dead were gone and it was back to normal. Almost. Cas watched Dean eat all of it, because it was damn good, and threw the box in the sink with the fork to wash later. It was one in the morning and he was exhausted from the drive back, first port of call was bed.  


"Bobby's pissed by the way," Cas said, tailing him upstairs, "More than me."  


"That even possible?"  


"Maybe, but Dean-" he barely had time to turn around before Cas was hugging him tightly. It seemed more like he was reassuring himself than welcoming him home. "I'm glad you're safe."  


Dean couldnt help grinning a little, hugging back and holding back a laugh, "Hey, you know me. Indestructable I am."  


Cas stepped back and pushed him in the direction of his room, "You think so. And wash your clothes, they stink of burning."  


He couldnt argue with that, they reeked. He'd have to do laundry anyway. Make up for his absence and the lack of phonecalls. It was good to come home to his own bed however, even if he did get punched in the face the moment he came through the door. He'd get Cas to do dinner more often too, the guy had a talent nobody was taking advantage of.


	4. In The Light

_When I look into your eyes_   
_I can see a love restrained_   
_But darlin' when I hold you_   
_Don't you know I feel the same_

**_November Rain - Guns 'N Roses_ **

* * *

 

In Summer he could relax a little. Lie back on the scorching shingles of the roof with his shirt off, watching the swallows gliding and swooping like miniature kites who lost their strings in the air. This time round, Castiel was here, and he wasnt so keen on wandering around half naked with him able to just walk in on him. But the roof was safe, kinda.

He’d been sleeping, dozing in the hellish heat he loved, and woken by the sound of someone working over an engine on the ground below. And, would you have it, playing Deans collection of old CD’s from the radio. Dean opened his eyes, shading them with his hand to see in the bright sunlight. The figure stood, working over his chosen Firebird with torn jeans hanging low on his hips, a sheen of sweat on his back. It was strange seeing Cas smeared with grease and dirt, working on a car like any other human with his skin browning from the hours spent in the sun. A little sad too, considering how powerful he was before he could’ve fixed it with a touch, now he’s reduced to doing everything by hand. But he’s by no means weak or frail. Hell anyone would think he did more than just going for a run every morning.

For some reason it made Dean want to touch the smooth muscle, run his hands through the mans damp hair. But he cant, it wouldnt be right. Its Cas, he couldnt just do that to him. Its just lust, its been a while and thats all. A cold shower and he’d be fine. Except the idea of waking up knowing Cas wanted him back was highly appealing for some reason.

He needed to get the hell off the roof and out of the heat before he did something stupid.

* * *

Its sort of a big fuzzy blur, only its not. Its perfectly clear but it doesnt seem real, like it might’ve been a dream that happened and not the real thing. But instead of sitting up and carrying on like he would if it were a dream, he’s got Cas at his back under the white sheets. Dean always thought they were plain, but Cas liked their crisp whiteness and how they felt clean on his skin, but then Dean was the one with the friggin’ Captain America and Batman sheets.

He tried to turn over as carefully as he could, so he didnt wake Cas, and lay there thinking about the pale rise of his shoulder above the covers for a while. As strange as it was he wanted to run his palm over the skin there, and again he was too chickenshit. And he wanted to run in general. Take his car and drive for miles with his phone off and try to forget this happened. He doubted anyone would let him.

Sam would tell him to grab it by the balls because it’d be one of the few good things to happen to him in his sorry life, Bobby would agree because if he couldnt get him to go to college then he’d definitely try this. Dean hadnt told him about the community college brochures he’d picked up, looked through then hidden under his mattress because he was this close to applying for a couple of courses. He thought maybe this was his way of getting his life back on track but now this...

Cas of course had found a leaflet sticking out from under his duvet cover, and Dean had (as usual) gotten all defensive on the matter saying he was just looking, he wasnt gonna apply. It ended in a very short, weirdly quiet argument that Cas finished by pinning Dean up against the bathroom door and no one really needed an explanation for what happened after. This was a textbook example of either a delayed start or a stupid way to end a friendship. He hoped it was the former, he really did.

Cas turned himself over, and he was already awake, squinting at Dean in the half light coming from the window. His hair was all over the place, he really needed a haircut. But Dean hadnt been complaining last night, and neither had Cas. Apparently the man liked getting his hair tugged. He almost smiled, but it seemed inappropriate since Cas wasnt. He bit his lip instead, which was sort of a bad idea because he could still taste Cas’ kisses. The careless, hungry kisses he seemed intent on giving.

“I suppose you would just want to forget this happened,” he said in that rough voice of his, “It’s probably best.”

Dean kept his mouth shut because he’d probably end up saying something stupid like I love you or whatever. The way Cas shut his eyes slowly and curled his fingers into a loose fist made him want to take him in his arms again, be closer in some way, any way at all. Instead he pulled the clean smelling sheets up to his nose, hiding the better part of his face in case something gave him away.

“I’m sorry,” Cas apologized for seemingly no reason.

“For what?” his voice came out muffled through the covers, but Cas opened his eyes, only he didnt look at Dean. Anywhere but Dean in fact.

A few breaths passed, Cas only seemed to get sadder. He sighed, That sigh, no matter how soft, seemed louder in the quiet morning.

“I’m not...human,” he mumbled, “Not quite at least. I dont think I’m meant for...that.”

Dean frowned, lowering the blankets from his face to tuck them under his chin. Cas finally looked up at him, and he’s frowning too but sadder. Like he’s delivering the news that someone-or-the-other has cancer and has three months to live.

“I fell,” Cas went on, “I fell hard. I lost my wings. But that doesnt mean I’m human. It means I’m a freak, unnatural. I dont think...I dont think I have a soul.”

“You’ve got a soul,” Dean cut in before he could say more, “I know you’ve got one. You’re good. If you didnt have a soul you wouldnt care about anything,” he added with a smirk, brushing Cas’ cheek with his fingertips, “You’ve always been a freak though, the good kind.”

Now Deans met people who’ve lost their souls, and they just look dead inside. They’re dangerous. No one wants them for a partner, no one would let them watch their kids, they just dont care. Not even for themselves. Cas on the other hand cares and loves things with every fiber of his being. He loves watching birds, good food, people. Hell Dean even took him to feed the ducks around Christmas because he thought that they deserved a little something too. He’d be lying if he said he hadnt enjoyed it just a little.

“I’m not human, Dean,” he repeated, hands fisting in the white bedsheets as his eyes begged Dean for some form of reassurance that he was something. Not just something occupying a borrowed body that would never be given back. One hand went to his throat, groping for the tags that werent there but tangled with Deans on the nightstand. They’d become a sort of comfort blanket for him, he’d fiddle with them when he got uncomfortable or insecure. Just something to hold, he supposed.

So, for lack of anything else and out of desperation, Dean tipped Castiels chin toward him and kissed his battered lips softly and sweetly and for a long while. The hand that had searched for his tags went to Dean instead, taking hold of the fingers on his other hand and squeezing in a trembling grip. Cas being insecure was like seeing a shaved bear, you know its a bear but it just doesnt look like one. Insecurity didnt suit Cas anymore than being shaved suited a bear.

“Did that feel good?” Dean whispered on Cas’ cheek when he pulled away. And Cas nodded in response with a quiet sigh, his hand holding Deans fingers tightly. Dean pushed his fingers into his hair, letting them tangle there and pressed his lips to Cas’ hairline. “You’re human enough for me, Cas,” he took Cas under his arm, letting him settle his head on his chest and intertwine their fingers in a knot. “You’ve always been human enough for me.”

“Even when I wasn’t?”

“Even when you weren’t.”

Now Dean wanted to take Cas places, places like old diners and little ice cream shops and just do things with him. Most of all he just wanted to love Cas like he never let himself. He wanted to kiss him until he believed he had a soul, he was human, he was loved. And by no one more than him. But for now a few more hours unabashedly, affectionately, blatantly _cuddling_ in bed couldn’t hurt, they had years of this to catch up on.

* * *

 

They rarely got holidays. Ever. In fact, this wasnt even a holiday so much as ‘ _Bobby got sick of us in the house so kicked us out for two weeks_ ’ and they just turned it into a sort of summer break while Sam’s home from college. They drove until they found a quiet town, which took a couple of days of motels with free wifi. Once they found a place, a seaside town with plenty to do while they were there, Sam called his girlfriend and agreed to meet her there.

He and Cas on the other hand were still sort of testing the water. They hadnt done anything since that night, and while they shared a room at the motels they barely touched each other. They were both new to this, and sure Dean had experimented when he was younger and maybe turned a few tricks when the need arose, but he hadnt tried anything for years. Cas, he wasnt sure of. Dean wasnt just going to assume he’d been Cas’ first, that was douchey. He did enjoy stealing kisses from him, making up any excuse like goodnight kisses, ‘ _I went to the store and I missed you_ ’ kisses, ‘ _you’re snoring shut up_ ’ kisses. Cas seemed to have no problem giving them though. Most of the time he looked like he didnt know if he was allowed, or what the protocol for them was, and was grateful for Deans ridiculous excuses.

Sitting under Deans arm last night he’d kept his eyes on the screen and slowly taken it in gentle fingers and pressed his lips to his skin, reminding him he wasnt wearing sleeves. Wasnt wearing a shirt actually but it was far too hot for that. He was okay with Cas touching his scars, he couldnt say the same for many people. He was better now, sort of. He didnt feel the need to pick up something sharp anymore, he much preferred talking to someone about it or even just plain ignoring it. He still had bad days, ones were he just wanted left alone. But more and more days it was okay, mostly because he'd given himself a kick up the ass and told himself to just grow a pair and move on.

He turned his head to Cas and watched as he moved his lips down to the inside of his wrist, swore he felt his tongue flick out for a second, and without warning he just took the tip of Deans index finger between his teeth, biting softly. It had caught him off guard, taking him a minute to realise Cas was testing his boundaries here. Seeing what he could get away with, when Dean would tell him no. The man looked up at him through his dark lashes, kissed the pad of his finger and kept his fingers in a loose grip around his wrist.

Dean wondered if he could hear his heart, how it sped up when Cas touched him in new ways, learned ways, experimental things that made his breath come faster. If he could, he either hid it well or simply ignored it. In memory of last night, as Dean stood watching Castiel shrug a loose shirt on working up the courage to go to him. When he finally did, he finished up the buttons for him, leaving a good few open, and smoothed out the fabric at his shoulders after straightening his collar. Then he kissed him, sucking Cas’ lower lip between his teeth and worrying it gently. Castiel groaned softly, hands grasped at his hips. Now he knew he could do to Cas what he did to him.

In the past few nights they’d shared a bed Dean learned two things. The first being Castiel fucking snored, not much but it took some getting used to. And the second, Cas suffered from nightmares. Whether this was an isolated incident or a recurring thing he didnt know but he would wake up to Cas rolling away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. The first two times he let Cas be, but last night and the one before he’d moved to sit behind him, hugging him round his middle and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. His skin felt all cold and clammy where Deans was too warm in the sweltering heat. They sat there for a long while, but eventually he convinced Cas to lie back down. Even if it didnt make it alright. He couldnt fix everything.

The man dozed on and off during the three hour drive to the little town, and Dean kept an eye on him whilst trying not to be distracted by the way his hair moved in the breeze from the open windows. Cas loved the sun, couldnt get enough of it, while Dean had mixed feelings. While it kept him from looking like a pale ass creep, it made his freckles come out more. A fact Sam made sure to tease him about regularly which didnt make things any better. Everyone said they made him look younger, and someone once asked him if he was Irish for some reason or the other. Might have had more to do with the fact they were drunk but hey ho. The only downside was scars didnt tan, and he either had to balls up and go sleeveless or pussy out and put on a shirt that covered them and suffer the weather.

Dean knew they were in the right place as soon as he saw the boardwalk swarming with locals in summer clothes, the other side of the road held lines of places selling ice cream and advertising their air-conditioned cafe’s with free wifi. And everyone seemed to be either teenagers or old people. Already he felt out of place. He checked the mirror for Sams car behind him, still there. He crawled along, careful not to hit any kids and their dogs or whatever, and kept an eye out for their hotel. It was a slightly more uptown place than he was used to. It actually had a three star rating, which was a luxury, and air-con. He thanked the high heavens for anywhere with cool air at this time of the year. Cas was awake now as he pulled into the parking lot outside, removing his precious aviators and putting them carefully back in the glovebox.

“C’mon bud,” Dean reached over to ruffle his already tousled hair, “Get the stuff inside and we can go explore a bit.”

* * *

Jess turned out a nice enough girl when they met up for dinner later. Clearly had older brothers cos she could well enough handle Sams bullshit. You had to be a certain kind of crazy to be brave enough to date a Winchester, that much was true.

“But why Origo-Nova?” she asked, after expressing her displeasure that Sam had ordered a goddamn salad, “Anywhere in the world and you picked a little town called Origo-Nova?”

“Dean hates flying,” Sam told her, stabbing a cherry tomato to death, “Cant take him anywhere.”

Cas gave him a funny look, “You dont like flying?”

“Why do you think I drive everywhere?” he replied, harsher than intended, so he nudged his knee under the table. “Besides, whats wrong with this place?”

“Nothing. Just not much night life is there?” Jess stole a fry from his plate, he was done anyway, “I’ll get bored of beating your sorry ass at poker every night.”

Dean was starting to like Jess more than he thought he would.

* * *

It was Cas’ idea to walk down the boardwalk at night, just in each others company. Dean could get used to this, relaxing. The waves lapped at the shore to their right, the moon cast silver on the ripples and the only other people were the couples at tables outside bars and teenagers on the beach. Castiel led him down the pier to sit on the end, feet dangling off the side. He could get used to this too, Cas in his denim shorts with the frayed edges he found in a thrift store Dean thought hadnt seen the light of day since ’96. His shirt still hung half open, even the cool night was warm in this weather. He swung his feet a little, like if he tried hard enough he could touch the water still a few feet out of reach. Dean tipped his head back letting the breeze wash over his neck.

Sam wanted to go rent a boat tomorrow for some reason, Dean wanted to do whatever Cas did. Which happened to be hiking off to some secluded little bay he’d heard someone talking about earlier. Dean suggested going later in the day when it wasnt so warm which elicited a frown but he agreed. The man wasnt affected by the heat at all, and Dean was ridiculously jealous of this little fact.

Cas’ head dropped to his shoulder, his thumb hooked around Deans on the wooden planks. He was the type of person who preferred the small things, he didnt need big grand gestures of affection. Dean kept his eyes on the stars and listened to the background noise, kids laughing, people talking quietly, music drifting out of the various bars still open.

“It makes you feel kinda little doesnt it?” he mumbled.

“My true form is- _was_ the size of a skyscraper, and my home was larger than your plane of existence,” Cas replied, “This is all very much smaller to me.”

“I didnt- I meant its, y’know, a big ol’ universe out there and probably other planets with life a lot better than us. Kinda scary,” Dean paused, “Probably a lot of places you’d rather be stuck, eh?”

Cas sighed, turning his head to the sky with Dean, “The universe is infinite. I’ve seen a thousand other planets with as many civilizations. I have never loved any as much as I do humanity. You always find a reason and a way to keep surviving, your masses of cultures and faiths, and none of those other planets had any _Deans_ ,” his lips brushed the bare skin over Deans pulse, “I couldnt have asked for a better fate.”

Dean bit his lip, smiling stupidly. He kissed Cas’ hair to hide it. “N’aw, flatterer.”

“You dont give yourself nearly enough credit, Winchester.”

Cas rose to his feet then, pulling him up by the hand. But instead of letting go he held fast to his hand, lacing their fingers together with a look that said ‘Is this okay?’ And Dean responded by tightening his grip on Cas’ hand, even if he was really, really unsure about this. Hand holding wasnt really his area, it was intimate and let everyone know you cared. He had to grow a pair at some point, he supposed. It made Cas happy anyway, he smiled and rubbed circles onto the back of his hand.

The took the long way back, shedding their shoes to walk along the beach with the sand between their toes and, eventually, the sea. Small, luminescent fish darted between their ankles in the shallows, flashes of neon blue and green. Dean didnt know what kind of fish they were but he’d never seen them before, ever. Farther out, something broke the surface, one after the other, with the same colours as the little fish in rippling shapes along its length. He was about to open his mouth and speak, but Cas beat him to it.

“Something humanity hasnt discovered yet,” he murmured, “They know I’m different, drawn to the last traces of my Grace I think. Not many people have seen them, you’re a lucky man.”

“Maybe its a good thing we havent found them, look what we do to everything else.”

Cas perched on a rock a little farther out where the water came up to his knees, dampening the edges of his shorts. The little fish swarmed around it, brushing up against his ankles and the fingers he dipped in the water. The larger creature surfaced again, closer to Cas and Dean would’ve said it was a dragon at first glance. But it was more like a big, coal black otter with almost transparent fins and a longer neck, and little claw-like hands on the end of one of the three sets of fins at its sides. And it was making low clicking noises, like a cats purr only slowed down twenty times.

He beckoned Dean over and he went slowly, the little fish parted in the water for him. The closer he got the brighter the seemed to glow like a warning to stay back, and he heard Castiel speaking softly in short, throaty sounds. The creature settled its big head in Cas’ lap and looked like a big water dog in the way it sat enjoying his hand running a slow path over its eye ridge.

“A hydrus,” Castiel told him quietly, “The male of its species. Females are much larger than this and live in deeper water. He looks after the young in the shallows,” he gestured to the little fish, “The hydra looks after her mate though. They pair for life, which can be for millenia.”

“Its beautiful Cas. Can I...?” Castiel grabbed his hand and placed it on the creatures head, running it over the pleasantly smooth skin as it purred. The hydrus watched him with its big, dark eye, a depth of intelligence there went back centuries. Only now Dean saw the marks, a lighter grey than its skin, criss-crossing its body breaking up the markings. “Its hurt.”

“Humans,” he explained, “Fishing nets, less developed peoples attacking the unknown, children throwing things, boat propellers, all man.” Cas took on a scowl, shutting his eyes. Dean pretended he didnt see the tear slip down his cheek, “Thats why they stay hidden and have so many babies, Dean. They’re delicate creatures. If they didnt, they would all die out within a few years.”

Humans cant just leave things alone, can they? Dean looked down at the hydrus still eying him suspiciously, he didnt blame it. The young nipped at his legs curiously and he had a sudden stupid need to scoop them all up and protect them all somewhere far away from people, but he’d probably get his head bitten off by daddy-monster. The creatures colours pulsed and it pushed up with a concerned sounding chirrup, nosing under Cas’ jaw and getting him all wet.

“I’m fine,” he protested with a little waver when Dean slid an arm around his shoulders. The hydrus slipped back into the water around his feet rubbing round his legs like a cat when Cas turned his face into Deans chest, “I feel so... _helpless_.”

“I know baby, I know. Hey,” he held the man tight, “Someday we’ll get a house out here near the beach and we can go down every morning and see them, okay? You cant save them all but maybe you could help this guy and his girlfriend. Like that fish in Lilo and Stitch.”

He shook his head, “You know I dont get that reference.” Cas hooked his fingers into his shirt and breathed for a few minutes, the only sound being the water lapping at the rocks and the sounds of the hydrus and its babies communicating.

“You should give him a name,” Dean murmured, and Castiel asked why. “It makes things more special when you give them a name.”

Cas seemed to think it over for a while, eventually his fingers untangled themselves from his shirt and he turned to face the creature gazing up at him. “ _Taengata_ ,” he said softly to the hydrus, “Thats your name.”

He cooed at Cas, rearing up in the water as the flowing markings pulsated with blues and greens. Its great eye shut when Castiel scratched him under the jaw, forked tongue flicking out like a fucking dog. Dean decided they were just big, wet dogs with fins. The man mumbled something else to it, and a minute later it dipped back under the water and slipped away, followed by a cloud of littler versions of himself. Back into the inky black until neither of them could see any trace of their light. For the best, he supposed.

“Whats that name mean, Cas?” Dean asked as they waded back to the shore. Castiel twined their fingers together and walked slower in the shallower water. It was warm and the feeling of it swirling round Deans ankles was almost theraputic.

“Forever,” Cas mumbled back, “Taengata means forever.”

“Thats real sweet Cas,” he stopped them both, Cas turned to face him and with the moon hitting his unreal irises Dean could’ve sworn it was his grace lighting him up from the inside. This time the kiss was long and slow and held the promise of things moving forward, a future without all the grief of before. If they could stay like that, hand in hand on the beach holding their shoes with the waves washing around their ankles as Cas wound his free arm around Deans shoulders, Dean would have been content. Cas’ lips tasted of salt and a little of the beer he’d had with dinner. They left Deans with a sigh as they parted softly, and they turned just enough to see a dark shape leap out of the water out in the bay, markings stark against the midnight filled with stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Jess part was really brief but next time we'll have more. This is very much a Dean central fic tbh


	5. I Am A Fragile One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, lotsa shit going on. Also TW for mentions and implications of past self harm

Dean always woke up early out of habit, like clockwork at six thirty. Usually he went back to sleep. Sometimes he just couldnt. This morning was one of those times, and he couldnt move because Cas was draped over him. He slept right through the night this time, for the first night in the four they’d been in this place. Completely sound and content. So he left him to sleep still. Cas looked like he needed it.

He nuzzled the hollow of Deans throat in his sleep, humming contentedly. His tags stuck to Deans sticky skin, even the air conditioning couldnt prevent the slight sheen of sweat from appearing. The man needed a shave too, he noted as his two day stubble scratched his skin.

Dean found early on Cas liked sleeping half on top of him, and he often woke up with Cas' face plastered to his chest or snoring right in his ear. It could get a little uncomfortable but hell he wasnt complaining. He had a theory too, why Cas did it. A subconscious need to protect, maybe reassure himself Dean was still real. He'd woken up once or twice with Castiels long fingers round his wrist, pressing lightly over his pulse. Dean would have been lying if he said he hadnt done the same a few times. Sometimes Castiels humanity scared him, the beat of his big heart in his chest couldnt reassure him in the slightest. It terrified him because he wasnt the unstoppable thing he used to be, he was very fragile in comparison to before. And sometimes he looked ancient, even in the body of a twenty-three year old he just looked too old for himself. Dean told himself it was because under his skin he was an angel with a few millennia under his belt. And since current calendars didnt apply, or Cas had just forgotten over time, they had to figure out a new birthday for him. He chose the eighteenth of September, the day he fell. He said it was sort of like being born into a new life, all deep and philosophical. 

Cas stirred with a sleepy noise, pressed his lips to Deans collarbone and let them sit there for a while. He pushed up, settling more on top of him with a languid roll of his hips as he kissed a line up Deans throat to his lips. The whole thing was actually lazy and unhurried in the way he did it, even though the hardness pressing insistently on Deans thigh suggested he had more in mind than a goodmorning kiss.  
He hummed in that gritty, just woken up way Dean fucking loved, "Morn' Dean."

Dean managed to return the greeting, even though it was a little difficult to breathe when Cas was just lying on top of him, all his weight seemingly where his arms lay on his chest. But fuck he could stay here forever if Cas wanted. Cas gave him a lopsided smirk when Deans fingers slipped under the waistband of his literally skintight boxers, the one he gave him when he knew what Dean wanted, was willing to give it, but was in one of his playful moods and wanted to tease him a bit. Dean knew right away Cas was gonna have him begging.

His fingers played with Deans hair, "Sam wants us to go to the fair in the next town over," he cocked his head, gaze fixed on Deans mouth like he was contemplating the best way to make him go insane. "It'll be nice, doing something with you. Might rain later though."

He traced the line of Deans jaw slowly, driving him up the wall. "But Sam'll be there. Sams boring. You, on the other hand, are very interesting."

"We still have a week left. We can do something fun when we get back," he said, kissing him swiftly and just rolling off him, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He smiled when Dean pushed up on his elbows with a childish moan. 

"Why cant we have some fun now?"

He only grinned back, abandoning him there for the shower.

* * *

 

The fair wasnt so much a fair as a farmers market, and while Jess put up with Sams fascination with everything organic, she exchanged the odd look with Dean that told him no she really didnt care that the apple he was eating was organic or whatever else he was saying. The whole thing was filled with stalls and rosy cheeked people with pinafores and it was all too Wizard of Oz Dorothy for Deans liking. But Cas seemed to enjoy it, actually interested in what the owners of the stall had to say about their vegetables and what have you. Dean wasnt at all interested until Cas mentioned there was pie and handed him a paper plate with a slice on it, plastic fork included. And it was, surprisingly, good. Amazing in fact. 

" _God_ I love you," he moaned around a mouthful, Cas laughed at him.

"How many times do I have to tell you," he waved his own fork at Dean, "Its Castiel, not God. And dont speak with your mouth full."

Dean settled for kissing away a bit of filling at the corner of his mouth, Cas' lips turned up in a smile and he tilted his head to catch the kiss before it left him. Cas treated every second with Dean like it was precious, he tried to do the same but sometimes he had to be silly, mess around. Like that day Sam rented the boat, Dean grabbed Cas and 'fell' overboard and re enacted that scene from Titanic and Cas had squealed when they hit the water, which was incredibly cute. Whats a serious, colourless relationship anyway? 

He chuckled when Cas sucked at his lip in the way he liked, and when Dean remembered where they were his face flushed pink because he didnt do this. He's learning how to be good in a relationship that didnt last two or three days, maybe a week. He wants Cas for keeps. He hoped Cas wanted the same.

"You taste like pie," Cas told him, sporting a nice red blush of his own to match Deans. 

"So do you," he grinned back, and his face got warmer, "I could kiss you all day like that."

Castiel touched his cheek, thumb going against the grain of the scruff he'd acquired over the course of the vacation. Cas stated one morning while half asleep that it was weird and scratchy but he didnt mind it, which was a good sign. He may just keep it. 

"Dean Winchester are you _blushing_?" he marvelled, " _And_ handing out compliments? Must be my lucky day." 

"Hush you."

"I like it. Makes a change from your usual grumpy a-"

"Less talking more kissing me," Dean went in for another but Cas' hand came up over his mouth and the man kissed his nose instead with a laugh. He so rarely heard Cas laugh really that he didnt actually mind he'd dodged out of a kiss, and let him drag him to a little native American jewellery stall he'd seen. Cas came away with a little woven bracelet in all different colours he'd seen before and liked. 

They met up with Sam and Jess again, and they both had bags of things. Dean could only guess what Jess had but Sam definitely had every type of healthy food imaginable in his white plastic bag. He helped Cas tie his bracelet on and Sam distracted Dean from his oggling Cas to show him something he'd bought, leaving Cas and Jess to talk, most likely gossiping about their respective Winchesters bad habbits. Some type of cheese he'd bought with bacon through it, which he told Dean he could make burgers with when they got back. Then he took Dean not one, but two whole steps away from Cas and Jess to lower his voice. 

"You've got something good with Cas," he said, "Dont screw it up."

He scowled, "I'm not screwing it-"

"I'm not saying- Dean you're doing great so far but look at your track record," he hissed, "You're a hunter and you've got Cas. You know what happens to hunters like ninety-nine percent of the time, and what'll happen to Cas? All I'm saying is its either Cas or hunting."

"Your angel went away, didnt he? When you didnt start hunting," he mumbled only for Sam to hear. And he hoped Sam would know what he meant. Technically, if he thought about it, Cas was still an angel. Only hunters had angels. The look of realisation crossed his brothers face and he flicked his bangs out of his eyes.

"You're scared he'll leave, arent you?" he sighed exasperatedly when Dean only scowled at the tree behind Sam. "Dean you can be such an idiot! He's grounded, he cant go anywhere even if-"

"Theres still a chance!" he snapped, "What if-"

"Then talk to him! For Gods sake you can be so dense," he muttered the last part as he turned away when the first drops of rain fell. Cas' prediction came true then. They ran with about five thousand other people to shelter under a big oak until the rain passed, until Dean got annoyed with the suffocating mass of bodies pressing together to stay out of the rain. He grabbed Cas, yelled to his brother he'd see him back at the hotel and ran out into the downpour with Cas. He'd been right of course, he had to talk to Cas about this. He had to be sure. Hell he didnt even want to keep hunting, the only thing keeping him doing it was the stupid thought Cas might leave if he didnt.

He pulled into a layby on the way, bugging Cas that this was a must for the album, the cliffs in a storm. And he made him get out too for an old fashioned selfie and another of Cas by the car. He realised life's too short to miss an opportunity and he has a polaroid to waste so why the hell not? And they didnt have many pictures of Cas on the fridge or corkboard, that had to be rectified. Somehow, he ended up kissing him in the pouring rain with water getting in their eyes from sodden hair and clothes sticking to their skin. He threw the camera haphazardly into the front seat once he yanked the door open with a murmur of "Cas, _car_ -" when he started impatiently tugging at Deans clothes. As much as he loved Cas he wasnt having sex in this weather.

Cas followed him into the back seat, immediately unbuttoning his own denim shorts that were completely soaked through, then set about manuvering Dean onto his back with a hand inside his shirt trying to push it up over his head with about as much grace as a giraffe with its legs tied, all without removing his lips from Deans. And fuck he kissed like a man starved.

"You couldnt have done that this morning?" he asked breathlessly, "I wanted it then too y'know."

"You didnt want it enough," Cas growled at his ear, giving the lobe an experimental nip as Dean wrapped both legs round his waist. Holy shit that was hot but he found he wasnt kissing back as enthusiastically as usual. And, apparently, Cas did too. "Whats wrong? I can wait-"

"No, keep going," he kissed his chin weakly, "Please."

"Theres something on your mind," Cas sat back on his heels and fucking petted Deans half-beard, "Please love, tell me."

"Do you want me to stop hunting?" he blurted out, Cas remained frustratingly calm as he continued to run fingers over his skin. His index finger circled the tattoo over his heart, tracing the line of an old scar near it.

"Does hunting make you happy?" Dean shook his head, "Then yes, I do."

"But will you stay?" he asked, a slight waver tainting his words, "Sammy's angel left, no one's seen him for months. If I stop, will you stay?"

"I cant leave. I would never want to, never dream of it. But, since I feel you're still concerned..." He met Deans gaze and hovered close over him, "Angels never leave their hunters," he murmured, kissing every mark and freckle he found, "But if they have no need of their angels they stay away." Dean thought it was bullshit, look at how Cas came and went. But then Cas was always different. He looked away from the freckles again, blue meeting green, "Do you need me, Dean?"

"I need you," he nodded, never taking his eyes off Cas', "I need you, Cas."

The man smiled softly before kissing him softer than before, "I need you too. I'm going nowhere."

Dean might have shed a single tear, but no more he swore on it. He made up for it by pulling Cas in again, crushing their mouths together and helped him shed the rest of their clothes. He didnt think either of them noticed when the windows began to fog up, or cared if someone knew what they were doing. There was only Cas and that was it.

* * *

It was Cas' idea for the barbequeue on the beach for their last night, and no surprise he picked the secluded little cove for it too. Dean knew he was looking out for the Hydrus again, even if it was entirely unlikely he'd ever see it again. He didnt want Cas to lose hope, cos if there was one thing you needed as a human it was hope.

Jess sat near the fire on one of the logs they'd dragged down from the treeline, and she ate just as much as Sam which surprised him. She spoke to Castiel mostly, they got on like a house on fire it turned out. 

"We never do stuff like this," she said around a bite of her burger, "Sam's a health nut. What's your one do thats annoying?"

Dean smiled at her choice of words, 'your one' like he belonged to Cas. Which was accurate really. "Dean? He uh..." Cas glanced round at him, he threw him a look that told Cas to pick carefully, "He...snores?"

"You liar," he grabbed Cas' food and held it out of reach, "Thats you! He snores like freakin' _hog_ , Jess, honestly!"

"I do _not_!" Cas made a grab for the napkin holding the half eaten burger, failing that he sat with his arms crossed and an amazingly childish pout on his face. It was hilarious actually, watching him try make Dean give back the food through facial expressions. "I was grasping at straws," he whined, "Nothing you do is annoying!"

"There must be something," Jess pressed, "Clingy? Insatiable sex addict?"

"I spent most of my life on the road with this guy," Sam put in, "He hogs the bathroom like hell."

Castiel simply shrugged, looking stumped as ever, "Well he never takes care of himself. But thats not an issue now so-"

"I hate myself," Dean said to get his attention. Actually, ninety percent certain he was just telling the truth, "I dont deserve you, never will. I'm horrible and I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be in a padded room," he swallowed, seeing the almost hurt look appear. Even Jess and Sam. It was only meant to annoy Cas but the words just kept coming. "And- and I'm fucked up and covered in these ugly scars- and I- I think if I didnt have you I'd have already-"

The burger fell to the sand when Cas hugged him tight, hushing the little pathetic whimper that escaped him. He wasnt crying. He never cried, especially not in front of Cas or Sam and his girlfriend. His hands gripped the back of Cas' shirt like he'd be blown away by the breeze if he didnt. He just told nearly his whole family his most secret insecurities, namely the pale marks that'd never tan that covered him in every place he could reach. Some were hunting scars, some just little accidents. The majority obviously werent. And he'd lied to Cas when he promised it woulndt happen again after that day on the roof, it proved just as hard an addiction to shift as his dads drinking.

Dean buried his face in the collar of Cas' shirt, and Sam reassured Jess he'd be fine even as a jagged sob broke free. He'd be fine. He'd be okay once he calmed down, got over himself.

"Dont you dare finish that sentence," Cas whispered full of aggressive concern, "You know what it does to us when you think like that."

"I'm sorry," he babbled, "I love you- I'm sorry I ruined our last night, I _ruined_ it and I'm so sorry."

A smaller, more delicate hand touched his shoulder and he lifted his head. "You didnt ruin it hun," Jess said, "God knows you're allowed to be a little fucked up after the life you've had." She hugged Dean too, even Sam came over and Jess made room for him to sit beside his brother seeing as he and Cas were surgically attached by the hands. Dean tried to apologise again but Sam cut him off with "If you say sorry one more time I'm gonna break your nose," but he said it with a smile.

Cas stole him back though, a quick kiss on the cheek and he brought him into another embrace, "You're everything to me you ass! I dont care if you're covered in scars or have, goddammit, purple hair. They're you. You're beautiful."

Dean almost laughed, mainly because Sam made a retching sound cut off by Jess digging him in the ribs. But partly because of how ridiculous it was that anyone could want him. But he believed Cas, and he believed Sam and Jess too when she agreed for them. And he still believed he'd ruined tonight even if they didnt let him. Jess made another round of burgers for them, seeing as Cas was busy coddling Dean, and made his a double. 

"You feel better?" Cas asked him quietly, staring at him while the crackling fires shifting light illuminated his face. He nodded vaguely, turning to watch where Sam and Jess toasted their marshmallows and were just generally gross. "I've got a feeling you had that pent up for a while."

The sand was warm under him, and he buried his fingers in it as Cas played with his hair, head lolling to rest against the inside of Cas' thigh. This kind of intemacy was different, it was a sort of comfortable coexisting with each other with a deeper meaning to it. He thought this was what being married was like maybe. If it was, hell he'd enjoy that. And because he was sleepy and the whole process of spilling his guts and everything making him feel like he had to say something to make up for it, he tipped his head back to look at Castiel, gazed up at him while he gazed back with his hooded eyes, "Wanna get married someday? I think it'd be pretty cool."

Cas chuckled, bending down closer, "If you ask me properly, I might just say yes."

"Fine," he twisted to get a better look at him, "Castiel, w-"

_"S'mores are ready!"_

If they could agree on one thing in that moment, it would be that they both hated Sam Winchesters timing, and both sent him matching glares.


	6. Ramble On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really short end chapter to finish it up cos it'll go on forever if I dont end it here

Its been three summers since they moved out of Bobby's house into their own place. Dean stopped sleeping with a firearm under his pillow. He hadnt touched a whisky bottle for eight months now. Hasnt had a beer in two weeks. Sam and his girlfriend are engaged, to be married in the fall. Dean is well on his way to becoming a TA. Cas still sleeps sprawed on top of Dean. Thats the only thing that really remained the same.

He made coffee every morning, drank it before his shower, went to work. Adjusting to life as a normal dude. Well, aside from the fact he had a sleep-talking, sarcastic, grumpy fallen angel for a boyfriend. They still bickered like grumpy old men, particularly over what they watched on TV and whose socks were whose. Cas still had his job at the library, and was best buddies with two women who were polar opposites of each other, one being an extremely nerdy redhead with a taste for elven ladies and the other a sort of punk chick with attitude to spare. How Cas landed up being friends with them, he'd never know. He pinned it on him the prettiest thing this town had to offer, aside from himself of course.

And it was with nervous excitement that Dean dug the little box out from between the couch cushions, wrapped up in a sock because he was too chickenshit to actually present the box to Cas. And he loved it when Cas got annoyed at him, it was adorable. He complained about the sock being dumped on his lap, but the weight had made him curious as to why a sock was that heavy. The box fell into his lap, Dean heard a small intake of breath and Cas opened the box. Just a simple silver band, it was the best he could do right now.

"You ruined the surprise," Cas said, and Deans stomach dropped to his feet until Cas went on to say "I was going to do that first." Dean smiled and Cas dug another box from his pocket, opening it and turning it towards Dean. They'd both lost interest in the TV now. Cas' ring was much the same, except the band was engraved with a couple of characters Dean thought had to be Enochian.

"So, that a yes?" Cas put Deans ring on himself, handing Dean his to presumably do the same.

"We were both going to do the same thing," he said, "Obviously its a yes, you jackass."

"Great, good, awesome." Dean tried to say, only half succeeding because his mouth wasnt working properly. "Thats really, really-"

He didnt get anything else out of his mouth because Cas occupied it. Somehow it still made him blush pink, especially when Cas reached for his hand to put the ring on him. Dean didnt think he'd been this happy in a while, this was yet another thing keeping him going. Another thing that hadnt happened in a long time, four years actually. In the years that passed he'd grown less and less concerned with the scars he had or how people perceived them He had been looking at various tattoos he could get to cover up the worst of them instead of sleeves all the time. He was seriously considering a hydrus, like the one he'd drawn for Cas when they got back from their little holiday. Cas had loved it. But that wasnt important now.

"We're gettin' married, Cas," he said.

"If we hurry we can make it a joint wedding," Cas replied, smiling as he kissed Dean again.

"Uh, no," Dean secretly reveled in the way their lips brushed as they spoke, "We're gonna have our own, I'm not having Sammy stealing our thunder."

"Fine, but I'm picking the venue."

"Small price to pay for keeping you forever."

Cas combed his fingers through Deans hair once or twice, "You already had me."


End file.
